Lost Lennon
by greygirl98
Summary: Florence has been raised by her aunt since she was born. What happens when John Lennon and Cynthia come to get her back?
1. Chapter 1

**So, this isn't my first Beatles fanfic (I have more on DeviantArt) but this idea for this story has been eating at my brain for the longest time! Here it is!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything except Florence Jane Lennon. **

"Florence, were you close to your dad?" Cora Corman, an Access Hollywood reporter asked as she held a microphone the size of a watermelon to my face.

What a stupid question! Of course I was close to my father! We didn't know each other for very long but I was sure he loved me like any father would.

"Yes, I was." I replied, hating the way my voice cracked when I said it. Uncle Paul reached over and squeezed my hand reassuringly. He knew how hard this was to talk about for me.

It was only two months ago that my dad had been killed. I was with him at the time, and before I knew it, he was gone. We all lost someone that day. Julian, Sean, and I lost a father. Mom and Yoko lost a husband and an ex she will never forget. Uncle Paul lost his best friend. Uncle George lost a mentor, and Uncle Ringo lost a confidante.

"You were with your father on December the eighth, weren't you?" Cora asked again.

I nodded, trying not to remember everything I saw and heard in detail.

"Tell me your story; from beginning to end. I want to hear it." She said again.

I looked over at my twin, Julian. He nodded, telling me in one gesture that it was alright. Everything was alright.

"Okay," I began. "Here it goes."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I remember sitting on the ottoman by the windowsill. I was still at the farm house on the end of the road and it was a clear and gorgeous day.

"Flo," Aunt Maggie began. "What are you doin' hun?"

I turned to see my caretaker since birth. Aunt Maggie was a short woman with bleach blond hair and dazzling green eyes. She was a little plump, but I always said the extra fat made her a better hugger. She pulled up her jean shorts as she entered the living room, carrying a juice box.

"Here sweetie," she said handing me the drink and then sitting down next to me. "So, what are you doin'"

"Nothing." I replied, sucking down the apple juice and playing with the bendy straw.

"The pigs need to be fed, and I was wondering if you'd like to help m-"

She stopped short when we both saw a car pull onto our dirt and gravel driveway. At first, I thought it was Uncle Jim, but the car was too nice and it wasn't a Ford pickup. It was actually a shiny black limo, with tire rims that gleamed in the sunlight.

"Who's that?" I asked, still playing with the straw, but never taking my eyes away from the new car.

"I-I don't know." Aunt Maggie stuttered.

Out of the car came a man in a pressed pin-striped suit. His hair was mud brown and curly. I had no idea who he was, and from the expression on Aunt Maggie's face, neither did she. The man went up our front walk and onto the porch, where he proceeded to ring the doorbell.

Aunt Maggie rushed to the door, telling me to stay where I was in the process.

"Hello, I'm Brian Epstein. Are you Maggie Powell?" he asked as soon as she opened the door.

I immediately thought that this Epstein guy had gotten the wrong girl; Aunt Maggie's last name wasn't Powell, it was Robinson. Wasn't it?

"Uh, yeah. That's me. Can I 'elp you with something?"

Mr. Epstein and Aunt Maggie had the same accent, I noticed. Small world, right? Wrong.

"Actually, yes. You see, a client of mine and his wife are looking for their child. Florence Jane, her name is. Do you, by any chance, live with a ten year old?"

I watched as another man hopped out of the limo and then helped a young woman out as well. She looked like Aunt Maggie. Their hair was the same shade of platinum blond, but the eyes were different. They walked the same, too. It was like Aunt Maggie had a sister.

When they reached the porch, the new man talked in a similar accent.

"Brian, Cyn'll be able to tell us if we found the right Maggie Powell."

The new man and woman moved the man known as Brian aside. The Aunt Maggie imposter gasped and whispered something to the man.

"Cyn?" Aunt Maggie asked, totally stunned to say the least.

"Maggie!" The woman cried and enveloped Aunt Maggie in a tight hug.

I had no idea what was going on. Three other men came out of the car and up the walk, just as Cyn, Brian Epstein, and the other man did. They stopped on the porch, too.

"Come in, come in!" Aunt Maggie cried, gesturing everyone inside for lunch.

I didn't realize how many people there were! Four men with matching haircuts, two women who looked exactly alike, and one other man standing awkwardly to the side. Who were these people and why were they now all looking at me?

"My Florence!" Cyn cried racing through the living room and scooping me up in the tightest hug I've ever received.

She was crying and saying things to me like how much she missed me.

"Um…who are you guys?" I asked, trying my best not to sound rude.

Cyn's smile dropped off of her pretty face. She kneeled down to my height and searched my eyes for a little bit. Her once excited expression turned to sadness in only a half of a second.

"You don't know me do you, sweetheart?"

I slowly shook my head 'no', hoping not to upset her even more. I watched her turn to Aunt Maggie and the others.

"You never told her, Mags? About John and I?" she asked Aunt Maggie.

Aunt Maggie rubbed at the back of her neck while a deep red color flushed her cheeks. What was going on here? What wasn't I told about? Who were these people?

"I kept telling myself that when she reached eleven, I'd tell her. You guys came a year early."

"Better late than never, though. Am I right?" the man with doe eyes said.

The man who came after Brian, John I presumed, kneeled down next to Cyn. He had a straight nose and auburn hair.

"Cyn, it's fine that she doesn't know,"

"No, it isn't fine, John. Florence doesn't know who her parents are!"

My eyes grew as wide as saucers. My parents? Were these two really my parents? Aunt Maggie and Uncle Jim were all I'd ever had, and now I had actual parents?

"You must have the wrong Florence." I reasoned, as scared as I could be.

John ruffled my hair and pulled me into a bear hug that could kill.

"No, kiddo, we got the right Florence Jane."

The man with the doe eyes came over next and pulled me from John's arms and into his. I got a hug from everyone else, too. Even Brian.

Aunt Maggie, still pink from confrontation, lead everyone into the kitchen for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything nicer to eat." Aunt Maggie began as she placed a plate stacked with PB&J in the center of our wooden kitchen table.

The man I knew as George inhaled sandwiches like a vacuum cleaner does with dust bunnies. I couldn't believe how many sandwiches he could fit in his mouth. Three at the most! Aunt Maggie would have freaked out if I'd done that.

Cyn still looked uneasy as she took a bite of her lunch and watched me.

"So, what are you here for?" Aunt Maggie asked.

Cyn looked at John then back at Aunt Maggie. She put her sandwich down on her plate and looked her sister dead in the eyes.

"John and I want Florence to come back to Liverpool with us." She mumbled quickly.

Aunt Maggie hit her teeth on her coffee mug as she heard this. This obviously startled her as much as it did me.

"You are kiddin', right? You thought you could 'ull the wool over my eyes!"

John looked at Aunt Maggie, too. This wasn't how they expected it to be, I could tell. They thought Aunt Maggie would give up without a fight.

"Jim and I 'ave 'oused this little one since birth! She's like our own baby. Now you want her back?"

Cyn turned her attention fully to her sister, not to me.

"We had an agreement,"

"Your damn right we had an 'greement!" Aunt Maggie yelled.

"Maggie, calm down," John tried to soothe.

I shifted in my seat as the argument got messy.

"Cyn, you're not taking Florence away from me! I've 'ad her for ten years, and I'm not losing her now!"

"She's _my_ daughter! I want her to come home!"

"You gave her up and decided to raise the other one! You can't just swap kids, Cynthia! I thought you 'ere a bright girl!"

The doe eyed man, now known as my Uncle Paul, nudged my arm. He leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear.

"Let's go out and play, hmm?" he asked as he gently helped me out of my seat and to the backdoor.

Once outside, the warm summer breeze ruffled my white t-shirt and shorts; it felt so good to be outside. Uncle Paul was still holding my hand.

"What do you like to do for fun?" he asked releasing his grip and then messing my auburn hair.

"I climb trees," I replied nonchalantly. "My favorite tree is over there."

I pointed to an old apple tree. "Wanna climb with me?"

Paul raced me to the tree and started his decent up it's limbs. I made it to my favorite sitting spot; a thick sturdy branch that produced the prettiest red apples. I plucked one off the branch, shined it on my shirt and gave it to Paul.

"Thank you, love." he said biting into it.

I waited as he chewed his apple. When he swallowed, he turned to me.

"Wanna play pirates?" he asked.

"No, thanks," I replied. "I'd like to know what's going on, though."

Uncle Paul shifted on the branch. I didn't know if it was because he was nervous or uncomfortable on the tree limb.

"You mean with Cyn and John…err….your mummy and daddy?"

I nodded 'yes'.

"Well, it's a long and complicated story, really. Your mum was having two babies and was only allowed to keep one."

"Is it because her Aunt told her she could only have one? I remember when out cat had kittens and I was only allowed to have one."

"Yeah," he said then laughed. "Something like that….So anyway, your mum and dad sent you to America to have a better life. Now, your mum wants you back!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to those who reviewed! I hope you like this chapter, too!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Florence.**

Uncle Paul and I ended up staying in the tree for the rest of the afternoon. We talked about everything under the sun, like the band he was in and who my father is, and held hands all the while. I liked Uncle Paul, and I could only hope that he liked me, too.

After telling me a few jokes, Uncle Paul checked his watch. "I think it's safe to go in now."

He scooped me up, jumped off the tree branch, and carried me back inside. We both stopped in the doorway, and didn't dare take a step in. The house no longer looked like it had before. Our glass cups and plates were smashed all over the floor, the table was tipped over, and Aunt Maggie was no where to be seen. All I knew was that I was happy Uncle Paul took me outside when he did. Things got a little too messy for my liking. I jumped from Uncle Paul's arms.

"Aunt Maggie," I called, hoping to get some sort of response.

Complete silence.

Weren't there five other people in the house when I left here? Why was it so quiet? To be honest, the silence never seemed so loud. I could literally hear my heart thumping wildly in my chest, the light over the table swinging, the rooster out front crowing. Uncle Paul was quickly becoming nervous as I picked my way through the destroyed and deserted kitchen. This was, no doubt, the aftermath of Aunt Maggie's anger.

"Aunt Maggie?" I called again.

Suddenly I heard a sniffle coming somewhere from the living room. I gave one glace over to Uncle Paul before hopping over a tipped chair. He looked like he was contemplating whether or not he should follow me. I heard the sniffle again as I approached the ottoman by the windowsill, where I sat mere hours ago. There was someone in the corner covered in a blanket. Whoever it was, was sitting upright and was hugging their knees. I quickly pulled the blanket away and earned a scream from Uncle George.

"Holy crap, don't hit me!" he whimpered.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I heard him speak. Finally, I knew Paul and I weren't alone; that everyone was still alive and hadn't been maimed by Aunt Maggie. When Uncle George calmed down he pressed a calloused index finger to his lips, signaling me to keep quiet. He smiled at me then tugged the blanket from my hand and quickly covered himself up again. What was going on here?

"Your auntie is insane!" I heard from behind me.

Only the couch was there, no one else. I crept toward the voice I'd heard, hoping I wouldn't scare whoever was making it. I peeked behind the cushion to find my dad. He, too, was in the upright fetal position.

"What happened to you guys?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

He looked around to make sure Aunt Maggie wasn't there, then turned to me.

"Maggie's not happy…not happy at all! She went absolutely bonkers!"

That didn't really help me, but I knew I had to find her.

"Do you know where she is?"

"The basement." he said, ominously.

Without thinking, I raced down the hallway and to the basement door. I could still see Uncle Paul in the backdoor-way, not taking his chances. I opened the creaky door and stepped down onto the landing. I forgot how much I always hated the basement. It was always dark and musty, and you always felt like you were being watched down there. I heard a crash and then some loud swearing. Cyn and Aunt Maggie were down there, alright. I slowly made my way down the stairs, hoping not to attract attention to myself.

"How dare you come to my house and demand my baby back!" Aunt Maggie shrieked.

I saw Cyn, hands on her hips, staring back at her sister with a look of pure fury on her face. It struck me because, even though I didn't know her for that long, she didn't seem like the type of person to act that way. Across the room, I could hear Aunt Maggie sniffling and throwing things around.

"Margret, she's mine! I want _my _child to come home!"

Aunt Maggie threw a jelly jar at Cyn. It nearly took her head off, but she jumped out of the way before it could.

"You won't get her! I won't let you!"

My heart broke when I heard her voice crack as she said that. What was going to happen to Aunt Maggie if I left? I sounded so self-centered to myself, but I knew Uncle Jim couldn't cope with this mess forever. He would probably leave, too. My aunt's crying got louder as she begged Cyn to let me stay. I couldn't bear to stay down there for much longer, and pretty soon I left.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next few days went by in a blur. I don't know why, but an hour after I left the basement, Cyn and everyone left the house. That was three days ago, and I hadn't heard from them since. I figured they didn't want me anymore, and I was surprisingly okay with that. Aunt Maggie wasn't okay, though.

I remember walking into her bedroom one day, after the incident. It was twelve in the afternoon, and she still hadn't woken up. When I opened the door, I wasn't surprised at all. Aunt Maggie suffered from depression, and I knew immediately as I approached her bed, that she was in 'one of her moods', as Uncle Jim put it. But it wasn't only when I got to her bed. One look at her room told the whole story. A pile of tissues by the bed, clothes on the floor, and the curtains were opened just a tiny crack. And then there was Aunt Maggie herself: A breathing lump under the comforter.

"Are you awake?" I whispered.

She groaned in return. I pushed her shoulders gently to try and get her out of bed. The pigs needed feeding, and I needed my aunt to be my guardian again. She sniffled, grabbed a tissue and sat up. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her hair was all over the place. Mascara also stained her cheeks as she wiped away a few tears that were falling.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked me.

I nodded. I knew she loved me because if she didn't, she wouldn't have been crying as much as she had. It was pretty stupid to determine someone's love for you by how many tears were shed, but at the time, that was all I knew. We sat there for a while as she composed herself, and then the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," I mumbled as I hopped off the bed.

Halfway down the stairs, I saw who was at the door. It took me by surprise, to be honest. It was John and Paul. I hesitated before opening the door because I didn't want this visit to turn out like the last one. I finally turned the knob and let them in because I figured it would be rude to keep them waiting.

"Hey, kiddo!" John said as he entered the house and kissed my forehead.

Uncle Paul kissed my cheek before coming in, too. I had no idea why they were here. Cyn wasn't with them, and I thought that was pretty strange. I noticed John was playing with an official looking paper in his hands.

"Is Maggie 'ere?" he asked, looking around.

I didn't know what to say. Usually, when Aunt Maggie was in a moping kind of mood, she'd give me an excuse to use so she wouldn't have to deal with anyone. I didn't have an excuse this time.

"Um…she's upstairs."

John started toward the stairs, grabbing Paul and I by the hands and dragging us up with him.

He actually found Aunt Maggie's room by himself, because I forgot to close the door before I left. Me and my stupid habits. John walked in and sat on the bed next to Aunt Maggie. Paul, once again, hesitated at the door. I took hold of his hand and brought him in, too.

"Maggie, it's John." he said shaking her awake again.

Aunt Maggie gasped and covered herself with the comforter. She looked surprised at first, but then when she saw the paper in John's hands, she looked furious. I couldn't help but to feel guilty; it was my fault I forgot to close the door and let them both in.

"You said you wouldn't do it." she hissed.

"Mags, what could we do?"

I was getting confused now, and my face probably showed it because Uncle Paul was trying his best not to look at me. What did John do?

"Yes, but ya said ya wouldn't!"

John played with the paper again, and then opened it. I was right; it was an official document. For what, though, I wasn't sure.

"Maggie, you signed the papers. Ya agreed to this." John whispered gently.

Aunt Maggie snatched up the papers and read them through. She looked away when I thought she saw her signature.

"John, please don't do this." she pleaded as he looked down at his hands.

"She's coming with us, Maggie."

The look on Aunt Maggie's face was so sad, I felt like I was going to get sick right there. I turned on my heels and ran out of the room and down the stairs. I could hardly see anything because of the tears welling up in my eyes. I plopped down on the ottoman and just stared out the window. My life was changing, and there wasn't a thing a could do about it. All I knew was that I was seriously going to miss this place. I'd miss the animals, and the pond on the on the mountain behind our house, and the beautiful cornfields. But most of all, I'd miss Aunt Maggie.

John came down the stairs with my small red suitcase in his hand. Paul was following him, swatting at his doe eyes. I couldn't look at either of them as they made their way into the living room where I was.

"Hey," John said as he sat down beside me.

I tried to muster up a smile, but I couldn't. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. I remember him smelling like ginger, and that I thought it was a weird thing to smell like. He was warm, too.

"We have to get going, if we're going to make the plane." he whispered.

I couldn't stop the tears from flowing as he picked up my suitcase and ushered me toward the front door.

"B-bye, Aunt Maggie! I love you!" I called up the stairs, hoping she'd hear me.

Paul put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed when she didn't respond. _This is it_, I thought as John opened the door. I wiped away a few tears when we approached the shiny black car in the driveway. Aunt Maggie suddenly appeared on the porch and ran after us. John stopped and let her hug me one last time.

"You're a beautiful girl, Flo, and you're gonna go places, and be everything you're destined to be! I love you, don't ever forget that! Don't ever forget how amazing you are." she whispered to me while practically crushing my body.

"Paul, you're such a wuss." I heard John say as he coughed down his tears.

Uncle Paul was full-blown sobbing by now. I didn't think he was one to cry, but I was wrong.

John pulled me away from Maggie and helped me get into the car. Aunt Maggie kept standing in the driveway, in her pajamas, just watching me with a pained expression on her face. It killed me to look back at her, but I did anyway, not knowing if I'd ever see her again. John and Paul then got in the car and told the driver to go, and he obeyed. We pulled out of the driveway, gravel crunching as we went. Aunt Maggie got to her knees as lost it as we pulled away.

I looked back at her until she, the house, and my old life were far, far away.

**Poor Paul…I don't know why I made him cry! Aunt Maggie's last words were corny, but I felt they kinda fit. Review Please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! It's been a while since I last updated this story, and I'm really getting into it now, so you should probably expect more updates. I hope you like this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles.**

* * *

><p>"Oh, look! There they are!" Cyn cried as she pushed through passers-by in the airport.<p>

She wrapped me in a hug that could kill and then a laid into John.

"Look at this poor girl's face! She saw the fans didn't she? I told you I should've gone to get her!"

John took a cigarette and his lighter out of his pocket and lit up. "You would've caused more trouble with Maggie."

"And look at your jacket!" Cyn cried pointing to John's torn off jacket sleeve.

"I know…third one this week!"

I must have looked pretty shaken because Cyn turned and began fussing over me again.

"Florence, love, are you alright? The fans didn't get you too bad, did they?"

Oh, yes, the fans got me. After an hour on the road with Uncle Paul, my father, and the driver, we finally pulled up to the airport entrance. Everything seemed normal at first, but that was only the calm before the storm. When we made it even closer to the terminal, I knew something was wrong when I saw the hordes of policemen.

"What's going on?" I asked, still staring in awe.

"The fans." was the reply from my father.

I didn't know what he meant. Did they have fans? Were they famous? My train of thought was derailed when I heard a bloodcurdling scream from outside. I thought we'd hit someone.

"JOHN AND PAUL!"

In a split second, the many policemen I saw were trying to hold back the throng of screaming and crying teenage girls. I don't think I've ever seen that many girls in my entire life since.

"Mr. Lennon, Mr. McCartney, how do you want to do this?" The diver turned around and asked.

"Stop in front of the entrance."

The driver obeyed the order and drove forward only a few feet and parked the car. At that moment, the policemen could hold back any longer, and let the fans loose. They came at us like starving tigers to meat. A blond girl threw herself against the windshield of the car and screamed for Uncle Paul. Another girl with glasses pushed her face up against the window closest to me and clawed at it, trying to get in. What the hell was going on?

"John, 'ow are we gonna get Flo out of here?"

More and more girls hurled themselves at us, screaming their hearts out. In my mind, those teenagers weren't fans…they were monsters! If I wasn't scared before, I was terrified when the girls began to shake the limo rapidly. I truly believed I wasn't going to make it out of the car alive.

"I don't know…we'll 'ave to wing it, won't we?"

My dad climbed over Uncle Paul and to the door.

"Don't go out there…you'll die!" I cried.

John ignored me and went out anyway. I thought the screams couldn't get any louder, but when my dad stepped out of the car, they increased tenfold. I watched in horror as they mauled him. They pulled at his clothing, touched his face, screamed of their undying devotion to him, and asked for autographs.

"Brace yerself, my dear. We're goin' out next." Uncle Paul muttered.

I barely had time to blink before Uncle Paul grabbed my hand, opened the limo door, and shoved me out with him. More girls came out of thin air and went after Uncle Paul and I.

"PAUL, I LOVE YOU!"

"JOHN, I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES!"

I was poked, prodded, nudged, and pinched. I didn't like it at all. If it were even possible, additional fans came and circled the two of us. It was like they were closing in on me, and I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Flo…you don't look so good." Uncle Paul yelled to me.

"I don't feel good." I mumbled in reply.

"JOHN! SHE'S GONNA GET SICK!" Paul cried.

I could hardly see my father in the crowd of fans, and I doubted he even heard Uncle Paul. When Paul saw nothing was being done about my current situation, he hauled me over his shoulder and began to run.

"We'll get outta here…don't you worry." he kept whispering.

I felt like he was comforting himself more than me. My eyes were shut so tightly that I thought I'd never open them again. I didn't want to see the girls, I didn't want to see my dad covered in girls, and I didn't want to feel stuck anymore. And to make matters worse, I still didn't know why the fans were there.

After, what felt like, an hour, Uncle Paul reached the door and threw me through it. I landed on my feet, thankfully, in the middle of the airport lobby with no sign of him or John. I could still see the fans out of the huge windows, but the two of them were gone. I had no clue what to do, and I suddenly felt like they weren't coming back for me; That this whole thing was a joke and they really didn't want me.

After a while, crowd began to dissipate slowly. Girl after girl stalked off, wiping at their eyes and sniffling, but there was no sign of John or Paul. One brunette was happily dragging a black piece of long fabric behind her as she was escorted out by the police. My stomach lurched into my throat as I realized what the girl was toting as her prize. It was a jacket sleeve and I was one hundred percent sure it was either Uncle Paul's or my father's. I shot over to the windows and pushed my nose to the pane, frantically searching for them.

"What's she doin', Paulie?"

"Dunno…she looked sick before, but I don't think she's throwin' up."

"We should go get 'er. We're gonna miss our flight and Cyn's probably havin' a cow!"

I was still having my panic attack at the windows when I felt a strong hand grip my shoulder. I turned around and saw my father. Uncle Paul wasn't too far behind him, and they both looked like they took quite a beating. John's jacket was torn, Uncle Paul's face was lightly scratched, and their hair was disheveled.

"Let's get goin', kiddo." John said.

"Where were you guys?" I asked, relieved but still upset.

Instead of answering my question, John grabbed my hand and began to walk. I could tell we were pressed for time as Uncle Paul was literally running toward the gates. He'd look back every once in a while to see if we were keeping up with him, which we weren't.

"You guys are too slow! Eppy's gonna kill us!"

John deliberately slowed down and decided to walk at a snail's pace, just to annoy Paul.

"I love to bug 'im."

I watched Uncle Paul turn around once more and give us both a death glare. Being late was obviously not his thing.

"Let's go!" He yelled.

John laughed and picked up the pace while squeezing my hand tighter in his. Looking back now, moments like that make me miss him.

After being pulled through numerous people and dodging many suitcases, we finally saw Cyn, Brian, and the rest of our group.

"Oh, look! There they are!" Cyn cried as she pushed through passers-by.

She wrapped me in a hug that could kill and then a laid into John.

"Look at this poor girl's face! She saw the fans didn't she? I told you I should've gone to get her!"

John took a cigarette and his lighter out of his pocket and lit up. "You would've caused more trouble with Maggie."

"And look at your jacket!" Cyn cried pointing to John's torn off jacket sleeve.

"I know…third one this week!"

I must have looked pretty shaken because Cyn turned and began fussing over me again.

"Florence, love, are you alright? The fans didn't get you too bad, did they?"

I decided not to answer, and I wouldn't have been able to respond anyway. There was a crackling and hissing noise, and suddenly a woman was talking over the loudspeaker.

"Flight 322 to Liverpool, England is now boarding!"

"Alright, boys, that's us," Eppy said, and handed out the tickets. "We're taking a private plane, so we're going to have to face the fans on the tarmac again. Just remember to smile and wave…the sooner we get it over with, the sooner we go home."

Everyone nodded and picked up their luggage, getting ready to walk back outside. It suddenly hit me that my suitcase was in the back of the limo John, Paul, and I took.

"Cyn, I don't have my suitcase…" I said.

"Don't worry, dear, Mal took care of that."

I didn't know who this Mal was but he certainly was a lifesaver. I hardly had enough time to think before Eppy came over, patted my head, and then began talking with my mother.

"You two will follow the boys and I out. You'll be the last ones to board the plane. We need to ensure the boys' safety."

Mom nodded and grabbed my hand. Eppy turned back to the boys and signaled them to walk toward the nearest exit where security was waiting. We all walked toward the door and as my father, uncles, and Eppy filed out of the building, the one guard put his hand in front of Cyn and I and told us to get lost. As Cyn tried to explain our situation to the guard, I watched as everyone marched out onto the tarmac without us. I began to get nervous. Sure, I was with my mother, but it was obvious that, even though she was trying her best, her negotiating with security was getting us nowhere. I suddenly knew that we were going to get left behind, and the panic sunk in.

John, who was several feet ahead of us, suddenly whipped around and spotted us still at the door, getting hassled by security. He instantly ran over and tried to help us.

"They're with me." he snarled, and we were immediately let out.

Cyn huffed and we scurried out behind John. I could tell by the way she was keeping her head down that she was embarrassed. I wondered if this sort of thing happened to my mother all the time. John didn't say anything to us and continued to walk on toward the plane.

As we got closer to the group and the plane, I heard the crazed screams again. I started to feel as though I were stuck again, and I hated it. Little did I know that I'd always feel this way when confronted with groups of people or fans. This time, the girls were behind fences on either side of us. My father and uncles must have felt like caged animals. They all smiled for pictures, waved, and then quickly ran up the huge steps and boarded the plane. Cyn practically fell up the stairs as she hurried us both onto the plane, and I knew she thought they'd leave her behind if we didn't hurry.

Once on the plane, while everyone took seats in the front rows, Cyn escorted me to the back. She sat me down, told me she had to use the bathroom, and left. Uncle Ringo took a seat in front of me and then turned around.

"Hello." he said.

"Hi." I replied.

"Do you know 'ow to buckle yer seatbelt yet?"

"Yes, but not plane seatbelts."

"Oh."

He suddenly got up and kneeled in front of me. He took both ends of the seatbelt and buckled me in.

"Plane seatbelts are always tough the first time around. I remember when I went on my first plane ride…the stewardess 'ad to buckle me in. It was embarrassing. Can you imagine? A full grown man getting buckled in by a stewardess? How silly!"

He stood up and ruffled my hair, then went back to his seat. Not a minute later did Cyn come out of the bathroom with a wet face and a few tissues.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly, unsure of what happened to her.

"Yes, I'm okay. The plane is going to take off at any minute…you should probably take a nap, love. It's going to take a while to get home."

I nodded and decided to listen to her, hoping it would make her less upset than she already was. I rested my head against her arm and went to sleep.

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><p><strong>Okay, that was chapter three! I'm not a big fan of this chapter, but I hope you like it. I don't know why, but it just feels weird to me…what do you guys think? Anyway, since I haven't been updating in a while, I'm going to update again tonight…just to make up for my absence. The next chapter is going to be great because we meet Julian! Review please!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Julian is coming up in this chapter and I'm pretty psyched about it. Thanks for all of you who reviewed, and put my story in their favorites! I really appreciate it. Someone asked what year this story is happening in, and I just want to say that the years and ages DO NOT correspond! When I thought of this, I thought Flo's story would start at the height of Beatlemania, and she'd be old enough to understand but too young at the same time (Flo and Julian are 10 lol) Julian was born in 1963, and this story is around 1964-1965...The two of them would be babies! So, I hope you guys like this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles, Cyn, Brian, Julian, or Mimi. I only own Florence.**

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><p>"Florence, wake up; We're here." Cyn whispered while gently shaking me.<p>

I opened my eyes slowly and looked around at where I was. I saw Uncle Ringo taking his suitcase out from the overhead compartment just as everyone else was. I sat up and saw that the world outside was completely black.

"Where are we?" I asked, my voice thick from sleep.

"Liverpool. C'mon, let's get your seatbelt undone."

Cyn reached down and pulled at the silver buckle, letting it fall from my waist. John walked down the narrow aisle toward us. He put his hands under my arms and lifted me up so that he was carrying me.

"Sleep well, Flo?" he asked.

"Mhm." was all I could manage.

"Julian's gonna be so excited to 'eet ya."

"Mhm."

"You don't talk much do ya?"

"Nope."

John laughed and hugged me tighter. I was close to falling asleep on his shoulder again when Eppy decided to announce the next tour dates.

"We're touring through Wales in two weeks. Before then, George Martin wants you all to come down to the studio to record a few things. I'll see you then boys." And with that, he opened the plane door and stepped out, suitcase in hand.

"You ready to go?" Uncle George asked John, hand on the door handle.

"Yah. Let's get goin'."

Uncle George pushed the door open and made his way down the steps. Uncle Paul was next, then Uncle Ringo, Cyn, and finally John and I. When he hit the first stair, I braced myself for the screaming…but there wasn't any.

"Peaceful night, isn't it?" my dad said.

I looked up and discovered John was right. The stars were amazingly bright that night, the lights from the terminal made the rain on the runway glisten, giving the tarmac a soft glow. As it was still summer, the breeze we both felt was light and warm.

"Yeah…it is." I sighed and put my head back down.

I watched as everyone filed into the airport through a door monitored by yet another security guard. Cyn and I were let through, John made a joke about being faster this time, and my mother smiled. I didn't know what went down between them on the plane, but all I knew was that the issue was resolved and I was more than happy to go along with it. It must have been awfully late in Liverpool, as the airport was deserted. No fans, travelers, or staff, just us. The only thing that could be heard was the clicking of Cyn's high heels and the squeaking of wet shoes.

"Alright guys, I'll see ya soon." Uncle Paul said when we arrived in the lobby and were ready to part ways.

He had one foot out the door, ready to go home, but turned back, walked over to me, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Just in case ya didn't know I loved ya." he smiled, then left. I couldn't help but to blush.

Uncle Paul left, and George and Ringo soon followed in suit, giving me a kiss and then leaving. When we were out of the airport and on the street, John put me down and thumbed a ride for us. After a while, cab finally pulled up in front of us. John helped get Cyn and I safely inside before putting our luggage in the trunk. He then opened the passenger door up front and got in telling the driver where to go.

"I can't believe I'm driving a Beatle! My little girl's a big fan, ya know?" the driver remarked.

"There's bugs in this car?" I shrieked.

Cyn and John began to laugh hysterically at my sudden outburst.

"Wet behind the ears is she, Mr. Lennon?"

"Nah, just doesn't know who we are yet."

Why did the driver call my father a bug? Were my uncles bugs, too? And what did 'wet behind the ears' mean? I decided to keep my mouth shut, figuring it was probably better to be quiet than look like an idiot. I looked out the rain-streaked windows at the tiny lit up city of Liverpool. It was very different from the farm back in America; All the houses looked as though they were connected, and the side of the roads were clogged with parked cars. There were no cornfields or cows anywhere in sight, and I wondered if all of England looked like this, too.

"Make a right at the sign there." John said.

The driver made a sharp turn and soon we were in another portion of the city that looked entirely different. It was a neighborhood, but the houses were separated by, what looked like in the dark, large yards.

"Turn right and stop at the second house down."

And the driver did just that. We made another sharp turn, drove a little bit, and then turned into a driveway. As John was paying the driver, I looked up at my new home. The house must have been three stories high, and was white with blue shutters. There was a wide front porch, on which a small red bike sat with many potted plants and flowers. From the porch steps was a long front walk that split the front yard vertically in half and went down to the sidewalk, where we were. Cyn got out of the cab just as a small figure opened the blue front door and flew down the steps.

"You're home!" the person cried as it raced down the walk.

I figured the person must be Julian. Cyn turned around and grabbed my hand, helping me get out of the car to meet my brother. Pretty soon my twin and I were face to face. It was strange…we looked similar and different at the same time. Julian resembled our father greatly, whereas I looked like John _and_ Cyn.

"Who are you?" he asked curiously.

"Florence." I replied, feeling a bit uneasy.

"I'm Julian." he extended his right hand so I could shake it, which I did.

"It's nice to meet you, Julian."

"You talk funny."

"You do, too."

Julian dropped my hand and looked at our mother and John, who had our luggage. I thought for sure I had upset him.

"I like her!"

Cyn smiled. "Good! Now let's go inside."

And with that John, Cyn, Julian, and I went up the huge walk to the front door. As soon as John placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it, the door swung open. Standing in the doorframe was a plump, short woman in a house dress. Her hair was short and brown and she had glasses on. I had no idea who she was.

"Look at you!" She smiled and then crushed me in a hug.

"Lil, yer gonna kill 'er!" John remarked.

The woman called Lil blushed and stopped hugging me. She moved over and let us all inside.

"How was yer flight?" She asked Cyn.

"Great, Mum. I hope looking after Julian was too much trouble for you…"

"No, no, not at all! He's a great boy."

Julian smiled at this, and I smiled too because his happiness was infectious.

"Jules," John said while putting down the suitcases. "Go play with Flo in yer room…The adults are gonna talk now."

Julian nodded and started up the staircase. "C'mon Flo! We can play pirates!"

Pirates suddenly sounded good at the moment, and I didn't want to stick around with the adults, so I followed him up the steps and into his room. On the way to his bedroom, we passed many other rooms and I wondered what they were all used for. The one with the big, white double doors, I knew was John and Cyn's, but there were so many others! We legged it to the very end of the hallway where Julian's room apparently was.

"Here we are." He said as he pushed a white door open.

His room was one of the nicest bedrooms I'd ever seen. There was green striped wallpaper and white carpeting. His bed had a wrought iron, lime green headboard and there were tons of toys. Trains, cars, boats, teddy bears, building blocks, everything!

"So, I was thinking I could be Blackbeard and you could be William Kidd…"

Julian was pulling items from a cherry wood chest in the corner. I saw two swords, an eye patch, a bandana, and a small, fake treasure chest.

"You can wear the bandana, and I'll wear the eye patch." Julian donned the eye patch as I tried to put the bandana over my head.

"Okay, the toy chest can be your ship and my bed will be my ship. You have to try to kill me and take my ship and the treasure. Don't be surprised if I do the same to you!"

I nodded, totally interested in this game. I climbed on top of the toy chest and Julian tossed me one of the plastic swords. He grabbed his own weapon and jumped on his bed.

"Argg….What do I see here?" He asked in a weird accent I didn't recognize. "A small ship…"

I looked around. Crap…I was the small ship. I didn't know what to do, so I just held my sword up and shielded my face with my sword-free hand.

"Do you know how to play pirates?" Julian asked in his regular English accent.

"No," I admitted sheepishly.

"You're not very good at it…"

"I've never really played pirates before."

Julian let out a gasp. "You've NEVER played pirates before?"

"Nope."

He got up off his bed and sat on the toy chest next to me. He took off his eye patch and put it to the side.

"Well, I guess that's okay. What did you like to do for fun back in America?"

"Um…I fed the pigs?"

"Wow! You had pigs?"

"Yup, and goats, and chickens, and horses, and cows…and a vegetable garden!"

Julian was silent after I told him about the garden. He looked at me funny for a little while and then he yawned. I suddenly felt just as tired as him and we both got off the toy chest and went to his bed. He climbed under the covers first and then I did.

"I wish I lived on a farm. With goats…and cows…and chickens-" And with that, he fell asleep, and I was too far behind him.

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><p><strong>Sorry I didn't get to update when I said I would. I fell asleep before I could update! Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. I was really trying to focus on Florence and Julian's relationship, so it may seem a bit different from how I usually do these chapters. Review please!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Hopefully you like this chapter…I really have nothing to put in this note :/ Oh well, there'll be more room for the story!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles.**

"Wake up!"

I felt hands tug on the hem of my shirt. Whoever it was, their grip was iron tight and the way they were pulling on my clothes felt urgent. I turned on my side and was nose to nose with my brother.

"Mimi's almost here!" He said with a panicked expression on his face. He had a wrinkle in between his eyebrows when he worried, like our mother.

I sat up and looked around. I was in Julian's room, in his bed. I pulled the comforter off my body and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to explain.

"Well, aren't you going to get dressed?"

"Who's Mimi?" I asked yawning.

"Only the scariest relative we have! Get ready before she comes!"

It was only when I stood up and started trudging to the door that I noticed what he was wearing. Julian had on a blue sweater vest over a white button-down shirt, and nice pants. His hair was slicked back out of his face, showing off the freckles on his cheeks I didn't know he had. He looked fancy and I felt out of place. Did we always have to dress up when Mimi came? My question was answered when Cyn careened around a corner and down the hall with a dress in hand. She looked distressed, her pink curlers half in and half out, bathrobe still on.

"Florence, dear, we have to hurry…" She muttered.

Our mother threw the mint green, short sleeved dress on Julian's bed and shooed him out of the room. As soon as he was safely out, Cyn tore off my overalls and began to dress me.

"Sorry, love, no time to mess around."

She threw the dress over top of me and pulled it over my head. Before I could even assess how I looked, Cyn ushered me quickly into the upstairs bathroom and began brushing out my bed-head.

"We'll give you a nice French braid. Mimi said she liked those."

It was clear to me Mimi scared my mother a bit. Aunt Maggie became just as nervous, I remembered, when Uncle Jim's mother was in town. Maybe it was a sister thing. Cyn wet my newly brushed hair and then quickly began to braid. As she was doing that, she kept talking to herself.

"The living room is dusted, John needs to take a shower, my dress is in the closet…"

I didn't say anything to her, just watched. She was getting herself so upset, she had to restart the braid a few times. I wished I could have said something to make her feel better, but I had no idea what was going on and my words probably wouldn't be much consolation. She sprayed some hairspray onto my hair, and rushed out of the bathroom.

Cyn was halfway down the hall when she turned to me and said: "Go downstairs and tell Daddy to get ready…Oh! And don't forget to put shoes on!"

With that I nodded and made my way down the steps. I didn't know where my father was. The house was huge and I'd only been there for less than twenty four hours. Cyn asking me to find my father was like asking a blind man to describe the color green. There were so many hallways and doors; I didn't know where to start. I decided to look for John anyway, as it would not only make my mother happy but would get me acquainted with the house.

Wandering around in the various rooms, I took notice of how many instruments my mom and dad seemed to have. I remembered what Uncle Paul told me back on the farm, how he was in a band, and I wondered if John and Uncle Paul were in the same group.

After making my way through two living rooms, I stepped into the luxurious dining room and felt my breath catch. A long mahogany dining table stood in the center of the space, set with the finest linen, flower arrangements, and crystal I'd ever seen. A China cabinet sat against the wall behind the table and in it were various plates, cups, and silver utensils on display. I felt as though I were in a department store, and was sure I shouldn't be touching anything, but my curiosity got the best of me and I almost broke a set of expensive-looking wine glasses. I decided it was time to leave the dining room before I got into any more trouble and went through the swinging door to the next area.

I found myself in the kitchen. I remember thinking it looked more like a hospital than a place to cook food. Everything was either white or sparkling sliver and smelled strongly of Pine-Sol. I shivered; I hated hospitals. At the very end of the long room was a wooden table that didn't match the décor at all. At it I saw my father with a guitar in his lap, strumming a few chords. He was in his boxers and a white t-shirt, totally oblivious to what was going on around him.

"Uh…John?" I mumbled, walking passed the huge refrigerator and oven.

He looked up, set his guitar down, and smiled. "Don't you look nice. Going to meet the Queen?"

"No," I blushed. "But thank you. Cyn said to get ready."

He sighed at this and put his guitar on one of the chairs. "That's right, Mimi's comin' today. Thanks for reminding me, love."

He got up and walked to the swinging door, not saying anything or turning back once.

After John left, Julian came bounding into the kitchen holding up my pair of white Converse sneakers Aunt Maggie bought me for gym class.

"These are the only shoes I could find without mud on them."

He handed them to me and I put them on, feeling stupid. I still looked like I belonged in farm-country, nice dress or not. Julian must have sensed my unease because he reached over and squeezed my hand.

"You look pretty, Flo. Don't worry about it."

After sitting in the creepy kitchen, we decided to go outside and sit on the porch railing. I thought it sounded like a bad idea from the start since we were dressed up like we were going to church, but I went along anyway. As we stepped out onto the porch, Julian closed the front door behind us and stepped around a few small potted plants to the railing. I followed in suit, careful not to get dirty.

"We have to keep an eye out for a cab. Mimi takes the bus here, and then calls a car to come pick her up." My brother said as we settled ourselves.

We stared out at the neighborhood, keeping watch. Liverpool was so different from back home. From the porch, I could almost see the outline of a city which was brand new to me. I'd never been to a city before, yet alone out of the United States. It was weird not seeing cows or hearing tractors, and I wasn't sure if I liked that. Julian brought me out of my trance when he held a worm in front of my face.

"Julian, Mom's going to be so mad at you!" I said while fighting my urge to touch the wriggling creature. I may not have liked the bugs in the cab coming here, but I sure did love worms.

"She won't know! C'mon, I know you want to touch it."

I did. I wanted to play that worm so badly, but I knew we could get in so much trouble if Cyn found out what we were playing with. I went against my better judgment and took the worm from my twin. It slid in between my fingers, making the lines in my hands turn a light shade of brown from the dirt on its body. Julian watched as it wiggled in my palm and then I gave it back to him, as it was his turn to play with it. The worm dirtied my brother's hands, too, but we were too busy giggling like madmen to notice. Julian was looking for a second worm to play with when we noticed a yellow cab pull up at the curb. I gasped, Julian dropped the worms, and we both ran inside.

"What have we done?" He cried, looking at his filthy hands and then mine.

"Let's wash them quick in the kitchen before Mimi comes!"

Julian turned and was running down the hallway to the kitchen, me following fast behind him, when John stepped out from behind the swinging door.

"What did we say about running in the 'ouse, Jules?"

My brother's face turned white as he hid his hands behind his back. "Sorry, Dad. I forgot."

Before John could say anything else, Cyn raced down the stairs in a pink and white floral, knee length dress. Her blond hair was curled and she had the slightest bit of makeup on. She looked ten times as nervous from when I last saw her.

"Is Mimi here yet? Did anyone see her pull in?" She asked as she slipped on white high

heels.

"Yes, Mum, she's here." Julian said.

"Oh, God. Alright, everyone to the front door, please."

John, Julian, and I went to the front door and waited, in a line. The house was deathly silent as we waited for Mimi to come. John fiddled with the watch on his wrist as Cyn smoothed her hair over. All of us heard high heels coming up the concrete steps. Cyn took a deep breath and turned to us.

"Remember to be poli-" She started, but the sound of the doorbell cut her off.

John ran to answer the door. When he pulled it open, I got my first glimpse of Mimi. She had on a brown fur coat and a light yellow dress. Her graying hair was pulled up in a bun and she had pearls around her neck. I couldn't describe her face, or the expression on it, but the Lennon nose was there.

"Johnny, my boy!" She cried as she stepped inside and wrapped John in a hug.

"Aunt Mimi…good to see ya."

"Don't talk like a Scouser, John. I didn't raise you to speak like that."

My dad looked a little miffed, but didn't say anything. Mimi moved over to Cyn and instead of hugging her, shook her hand.

"Cynthia…Good to see you, I suppose." She said coldly, and my mother looked as though she had just been given a compliment.

Mimi then moved over to Julian and I.

"Julian, haven't you grown. I remember when you were just a baby; You used to drive me up a wall what with all your wailing." She said, without a smile.

I thought she'd be glad to see Julian, but I was wrong. The way she looked at him made it seem as though he were a burden to her, and I starting feeling sick when she took the next two steps toward me.

"And who are you?" Mimi asked, contorting her face into a…disgusted expression. She looked at me from head to toe, as if assessing if out conversation was even worth it just by how I looked.

"Florence," I replied quietly.

"Well, Florence, I hope you know those shoes do not match that dress. Who dressed you?"

"M-my mother, ma'am."

Mimi turned to Cyn who had turned the brightest shade of pink possible.

"You're American, I see…I think we should just shake hands."

Mimi held out her hand to me and when I went to shake it, I heard Julian gasp.

"Wait, Flo!"

Before I could even blink, Mimi grabbed my hand and turned it over in hers. My stomach dropped; She was inspecting my dirt-laced palms.

"Your hands are filthy!" She spat, and I looked away. "Where are you from? A farm?"

"Yes." I answered quietly, not knowing that she was being sarcastic and that I wasn't supposed to answer.

"Cynthia, is this the little girl you gave up?"

If I thought Cyn couldn't get any pinker, I was wrong. She was as red as a tomato now, and I felt ashamed. This was my fault. If I hadn't played with the worms, my mother wouldn't have had to be embarrassed.

"Yes it is. We brought her back from Margaret's yesterday."

"Margaret? Isn't that your sister…the one who married that redneck?"

I could tell this was painful for my mother, but she answered anyway. "Yes."

John decided to step in just as Mimi was about to lay in on me.

"Mimi, I don't think this is 'ecessary."

She turned to John. "Nonsense, I was just wondering where the girl came from. It's obvious she was raised by trash; I was just wondering if she'd admit to it."

I felt hot tears spring to my eyes and I tried to blink them back, but I couldn't help it. One tear, then two trickled down my face. I ripped my hand out of Mimi's and ran up the stairs, tired of them all. I didn't know where I was going but before I knew it, I collapsed on the toy box in Julian's room, unable to control my sobs. Why did Mimi hate me?

I stared out the window at the huge backyard. This definitely was not my home.

**So, what did you think? Mimi was definitely harsh, but that was the point. Hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently, because school is going to end before I know it! I hope you liked it, and review please!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! I've been gone for way too long! Not only have I had lots of marching band practice, but I've also had some serious writer's block…And speaking of that, if anyone has anything they'd like to see in Lost Lennon, please let me know! By the way, I understand that during the time John and Yoko had their affair, Cynthia was in Greece. She won't be in this story! Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything that involves them in this story.**

**May 15, 1968**

Things were changing rapidly in our household. Everything was psychedelic and spiritual, and it was all about meditation, incense, and music from India. Not only had our house changed, but the appearances and attitudes of my parents had as well. John ditched his mop top, hacked his hair short, and was grumpier than usual. Cyn had gotten a nose job, began to dress less conservatively, and was getting stronger as a person. The fights between those two had also become more frequent.

"When do you think they'll stop?" Julian asked me, looking out the window at the rain.

"I don't know," I called from my bed. "It sounds like it's just getting started."

The both of us were in our room waiting for John and Cyn's latest spat to be over. Their fights were always about some woman named Yoko, and this time wasn't any different.

"It's about that artist woman again." I grumbled and walked over to where Julian was.

I would have much rather been outside for this particular argument, but we weren't allowed to go out in the rain.

"Do you think this is really it?" Jules asked.

"Nah, I heard Uncle Ringo tell John that divorce was overrated. I think he agreed with him."

We sat in silence for a while, listening to our parents scream at each other. Cyn said something about Yoko, John tried to defend himself, and then there was a loud crash.

"Ten Pence says dad threw whatever that was." Julian said.

"My bet's on mom."

In the beginning, when the arguments really began, Julian and I would be unnerved and would try to drown out the shouting by listening to some loud records. Now we would ignore it and make jokes of it. To us, the fighting had become an everyday, normal thing. It was sad.

"Why don't you go to Yoko's? I'm sure she'd_ love_ to see you!" Cyn screeched.

"I think I will!"

And with that, the front door slammed and it was all over. The house became eerily quiet and Julian and I just looked at each other.

"Do you think he left for good?" I asked.

"I have no clue."

I walked over to the door and slowly opened it. John had left and Cyn was somewhere in the house crying.

"Crap! She's crying!" I hissed over my shoulder to my brother.

He walked up behind me and poked his head out of the door.

"What should we do? I don't want to go down there!"

Truth was, I didn't want to go down there either.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" Julian offered.

"Sure," I said and held out my clenched fist. "Loser goes downstairs."

No sooner after I said that, Julian had his hand out in the scissor position and my hand was in the paper position.

"Best two out of three?" I asked.

"No! Get down there!" Julian pushed me toward the top of the stairs. For a thirteen year old boy, he was strong.

As I made my way down, I looked around to see if Cyn was in any of the living rooms, and, of course, she wasn't. In the foyer, I had the option to look for my mother in the kitchen or go through the living rooms to the dining room. I opted for the kitchen.

I pushed open the swinging door and entered the kitchen. Cyn was sitting at the kitchen table, head in her arms. The pots and pans that were usually hanging from the ceiling on a rack were now all over the floor.

"A-are you okay?" I asked.

I was mentally kicking myself as the words sunk in. Of course she wasn't okay!

"Don't ever let a man take advantage of you, Florence." Cyn sobbed. "Your father is a slimy pig!"

I was shocked. Never had my mother spoken bad about my father, or anyone for that matter. I didn't know what I was getting myself into as Cyn wiped her face and sat up a little straighter.

"If you ever suspect a man of cheating on you, walk right out! Learn from my mistakes."

I walked over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. She gently shrugged it off and stood up.

"Did you do your homework?"

"No, I just wanted to-"

"Just do it now…please?"

I took that as a sign that she wanted to be alone, so I left.

**May 20, 1968**

A day after the argument, everyone went on as if it had never happened. John came back home and Cyn was reluctantly going back to her normal self. The tension in the house, though, was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

John, Julian, and I were sitting at the kitchen table eating the lunch John prepared for us.

"I could've made better egg salad, you know, but the eggs weren't cooperating."

This comment made Julian and I laugh. I remember mentally telling myself that I'd miss him if he left us.

"What's the matter, Flo? Don't like my cooking?"

"I think I'm going to be sick…" I joked, covering my mouth as though I were about to throw up.

John laughed at this and then got up, ruffled Julian's hair, kissed my cheek, and went to make a phone call.

"'scuse me children…The Queen is expecting a call from me."

As soon as dad was out of earshot, Julian put his egg salad sandwich on his plate.

"I love him and all," He'd said, "But his cooking's gross. I wish mom were here."

I agreed. Mom had left earlier that day to take care of Grandma, who had come down with the flu.

"She won't be back until tonight, so we better stick it out until after dinner."

Soon after that, John waltzed back into the kitchen and pulled our chairs out for us, which I found weird.

"Okay, kiddies, outside with you!" He said playfully and the shooed us outside.

I found that even weirder…

Julian and I decided not to fight with our father (As he was in a good mood) so we went out. When we were both in the middle of the backyard and dad had closed the door on us, Julian turned to me.

"What was that all about?"

I was wondering the same thing.

"I have no idea."

After a while, Julian and I plopped down in the grass and began talking. We covered every subject from the cute girl that sat behind him in French class, to the latest horror film. It felt like an hour or two later when we started talking about what our dad could have been doing in the house.

"I think he's doing something he shouldn't be doing," Julian said. "I know I do all the things I'm not allowed to do when I'm alone in the house."

I gave Julian a look.

"What? It's true!" He said and then turned to look at the back door.

"He's probably writing a song. We both know he likes to be alone when he does that." I reasoned.

It was true; John never like company when he composed. The only person that could be there without being considered 'company' was Uncle Paul.

Maybe a minute or so after that, Julian and I saw a cab come down the street with a long-haired woman in the back seat.

"Who's that?" Julian asked.

"How am I supposed to know? It's probably the neighbor's relative, or something."

We didn't see the cab for a bit and then it departed. We couldn't see if the lady had gotten out of the car or not.

"So, what do you want to do?" Julian asked.

"Want to play hide and seek?" I asked.

Julian played with the grass and then looked up at me. "That's a baby game….I'll only play if I get to seek first!"

"Deal!"

Then I got up and ran toward the front of the house to hide behind a bush. Julian went the other way so he could count.

When I was crouched down behind the bush under the sunroom widow, I heard glasses clink together and the sound of my father's voice saying something I couldn't make out. Normally I would have looked through the window, and I was about to, but I heard Julian come bounding in my direction, so I stayed down.

I was thinking about what was going on in the house when Julian poked his head in the bush and brought me out of my trance.

"Found you!" He hollered.

"Shh!" I hissed and pulled him down into the bush with me. "I heard something in there!"

"You did?" Jules whispered and tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down again.

"Don't stand up! I don't know who's in there, and I don't want whoever it is to see us!"

We sat in silence for a little while longer and then Julian got up, going against my wishes.

"There's no one in there!" He said.

I stood up and looked in the window. Sure enough, the room was empty.

"You must have been imagining it, you nutter!"

Julian then got up and walked to the back yard and I followed.

"Hide and seek is no fun." He said, plopping back in the grass again.

I didn't answer, as I was still trying to make sense of what I'd heard. I looked at the sky and noticed it was sunset already.

"We've been out here this long?"

Julian looked up, too, and then turned to me. "That's it. I'm trying the back door."

I was going to protest, but Julian was already on the back steps and was only two feet away from the door. I watched as he tried to pull the sliding door to the right to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

As he was still trying to open the door, I watched my mom's car pull into the driveway. The headlights washed over my face before she turned the car off. I watched her get out and walk toward the front door, not even glancing at me sitting alone in the yard.

Julian came back over and sat back down. "We're locked out."

"That's okay, Mom's home."

We both got up to walk toward the front door when we herd Cyn scream.

**So? What did you guys think? Remember, if you want to see anything in the next chapters, let me know! Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys, I'm back! I'm so sorry for going AWOL on you. Life has been pretty hectic since I last updated! Between getting ready for honors classes, summer assignments, band camp, school starting, and homework up to my eyeballs, I haven't had the time to update and I feel really bad about that! Hopefully you can forgive me?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles.**

Julian and I raced across the driveway just as our mother screamed.

"John, what the hell are you doing?!"

We were right behind Cyn at this point, looking through the front door into the kitchen where our father and some other woman were sitting. She was in my mother's bathrobe. If you were to stand by us at that moment, you'd hear three hearts breaking in unison.

"Oh, hello…" John said, looking from Cyn to me to Julian. He seemed to be totally unfazed by that fact that his wife and children had just caught him with another woman.

I felt sick and my vision became watery instantly. I looked over to Julian and was met by a blank face. He didn't look like my brother anymore. I reached for his hand and attempted to grab it, but he pulled it away and began to walk back the way we came, head down and hands in pockets.

Cyn stormed into the house and grabbed the woman by her upper arm, dragged her to the front door, and practically threw her onto the pavement next to me. I didn't look at her as she got up and brushed herself off. Instead I was focused on my father…

He looked completely baked. His speech was incoherent when he tried to explain himself to my mother. He walked awkwardly and tried to hug Cyn, but she slapped his hands away.

"You disgusting pig! You call yourself a father? Look what you've done to your children!"

Cyn pointed at me, still standing frozen on the walkway.

"Who is she?" John asked. I knew it had to be me he was talking about because the woman who was there was already walking down front lawn to the road. I wanted to spit in her face.

Whatever heart I had left was completely crushed at that point. I turned on my heels and ran toward the backyard, hoping to find my brother there.

It was pitch black as I stumbled clumsily around. I tripped over a potted plant and ripped a hole in the knee of my pants.

"Jules!" I called, voice cracking.

No answer.

"Jules!" I yelled out again, but louder.

"I'm here." He responded in a soft voice somewhere by the back steps.

I followed the sound for a few minutes before my right foot bumped into his leg. He was sitting on the ground, holding his knees. I sat down beside him and, unsure of what to do, put my head on his shoulder and sighed. It felt odd not crying after something like this, but I just couldn't. Tears wouldn't come even if I tried. Disappointment was the emotion I felt the most, not sadness. I didn't know what Julian felt, but I knew whatever emotion it was, it was bad.

"Flo, what are we going to do?" Julian asked after a few minutes of silence.

"I-I don't know. Everything's over."

"What do you mean?"

I thought about it. "I don't know. Everything just feels dead…over, you know?"

Even though he said nothing, I knew Julian understood what I meant.

We heard the yelling inside and tried to block it out, but no matter what we tried, we still heard our mother screaming and John trying to defend himself while high as a kite. Everything they said made no sense to me; it was just a mass of sound. After a few seconds of listening, Julian and I heard the sound of twigs snapping and footsteps.

"Julian? Florence?" A voice called.

We both looked up and saw the figure of a man in front of us. I could faintly make out a strange looking sweater, and knew then who it was.

"Uncle Paul?" I said to the man.

"Come here, guys." He said and held his arms out to us.

Without hesitation, Jules and I ran into Uncle Paul's arms and hugged him. He smelled of cigarettes and fabric softener, but he was warm and comforting and that was what I needed at the moment. His hugs reminded me of Aunt Maggie's, and I suddenly felt safe.

"Let's go back to my flat." And with that, Uncle Paul was leading us to his black VW Beetle.

**I know this chapter was very short, but it's kind of a filler-chapter. I know I didn't go into much detail with the fight between John and Cynthia, but the real juicy stuff will be happening in the next few chapters! I hope you liked it and review please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**It's time for an update! Since hurricane Sandy is currently keeping me from school, marching band, and a bunch of other responsibilities of mine… I've decided to update. It's something I've been meaning to do for a while, really, but I haven't had the time to. So anyway, here is chapter eight!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles.**

We arrived at Uncle Paul's apartment at midnight. By the time we all kicked off our shoes and settled into the living room, Julian sank into a depression and Uncle Paul and I were sprawled out on his comfortable leather couches.

"I'm going to go to bed. Is that okay?" Julian finally said.

Uncle Paul looked up and pointed to a small hallway. "First door on your left is my bedroom. Make yourself at home, kiddo."

I could tell that Uncle Paul was trying hard to make Julian feel a bit better even though we both knew it was going to take a lot to get Jules back to who he was before. We watched him as he trudged silently to bed looking completely heartbroken. When the bedroom door finally shut, Uncle Paul turned to me.

"I'm so sorry." He said and then pulled me in for another hug.

I felt tears spring to my eyes. I didn't want to cry in front of Uncle Paul or anyone for that matter, but the tears were coming in abundance and I couldn't stop them. When the reality of what had just transpired sunk in and the shock wore off, I was full-blown sobbing.

"Oh, love, don't worry… everything will work out," Paul whispered to me, rocking me back and forth all in an attempt to make me feel better. "John still loves you."

Even though Uncle Paul was probably correct, I didn't believe him. If he had loved Cyn, Jules and I, wouldn't he have stayed faithful? There were so many things I wanted to ask but couldn't bring myself to. Little did I know that this wouldn't be the last time I'd cry because of my father.

Uncle Paul released me and then stood up. "I'm going to make you some tea. I hope you like raspberry."

I nodded and he smiled then went to his kitchen. I tucked my feet up under me, wiped the tears from my face, and sniffled a bit while I tried to compose myself. How was I to bounce back from this? How was my _mother_ to bounce back from this? And Julian was a whole other situation…

"Here, Flo. Drink up!" Uncle Paul exclaimed as he handed over a warm mug full of milky raspberry tea. "I hope you don't mind that I added cream."

"Not at all," I said and took a sip. "Thank you."

Paul then flipped on his television and we watched Carson together until I fell asleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was around three in the morning when I heard the knock on the door.

I groggily looked around and couldn't remember where I was.

"Don't worry about it, Flo, I got it." Uncle Paul said and then made his way to the door.

I didn't know who it was and I didn't really care at that point; it was too early and I was too exhausted.

"Where are the kids, Paul?" I heard my mother say.

"They're both asleep. Would ya like to come in?"

I heard Cyn cough. "Sure."

I was alarmed that my mother was here. I didn't know what to expect from her now and I figured I wouldn't know what to say if she said anything to me.

Cyn walked in behind Uncle Paul and took off her coat just as he asked her if she wanted something to drink.

"Coffee, please," She said quietly and then sat down at Uncle Paul's kitchen table.

While they were talking, I tried to go back to sleep but soon discovered that I couldn't.

"Where's John in all of this?" Paul asked my mother.

"He left. I don't know where he's gone but he couldn't have gotten far; he's too stoned."

"I'm so sorry, Cyn. If there's anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ca…"

"Please don't do this, Paul. You don't have to do anything for me. It was John's responsibility to care for us and he failed."

They were silent for a while. I felt bad for listening in to their conversation, but then Uncle Paul said something that almost made me choke on my own tongue.

"If you want I could…take the kids in as my own. Now, I know that this is kind of ridiculous, but I love them like they were mine, and if you feel like you need to step out of the picture for a bit…"

Cyn laughed. "That's awfully kind of you Paul, but two thirteen year olds are a big responsibility."

"You don't think I could handle them?" I could hear the smile in Paul's voice.

"No, no, I just think I need to be there for them now more than they're ever going to need me."

"Just know that if you ever feel like things are too much to handle, I'll take care of them."

I sat up and looked toward the kitchen. Was Uncle Paul serious? I didn't have much time to think about it before the apartment door burst open and in came my father looking as though he'd had a bad trip.

His eyes were glazed over and his clothes were all wrinkled and hung on his body awkwardly. He must have taken a nasty spill before coming here because the lenses in his glasses were cracked and he had bloody cuts on his arms and face.

"Cyn, where are ya?" He shouted. "Where are the kids?"

I jumped to my feet and watched as Uncle Paul and my mother joined John and I in the living room. I had no idea what was going to happen and I didn't really want to stick around and find out. I willed my feet to move but it seemed as though they were in buckets of cement.

"I want the kids to live with Yoko and me."

My mother looked as though she was about to kill him. "Yoko? Yoko! You mean that woman who destroyed our family?"

John kept repeating the fact that he wanted Julian and I to live with him. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I was even in the room until Cyn pointed it out.

"Florence, go find your brother." She hissed while glaring at my father.

I took one look at her and saw the woman she was back when we all were at Aunt Maggie's three or four years ago. She looked like she was about to go for John's jugular once I left the room.

"No, Flo stays! Who do you want to go with, hmm? Me or your mum?"

"John, don't do this to her." Uncle Paul reasoned.

"Shut up! This has nothing to do with you!" My father retorted.

Through all of this, the only thing I could think of was how Julian was sleeping through all of this shouting. My brain was so scrambled that I couldn't think yet alone decide between my mother and my father. At that point, I really wished Cyn granted Paul custody of us.

"Answer me, Florence Jane. Are you leaving with me or staying with Cyn?"

**And that is the end of chapter eight! What did you guys think? Was it too unrealistic? I hope you enjoyed it and please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Happy almost Thanksgiving everyone! I wanted to get this chapter out there before the holidays as I will be too busy eating and Christmas shopping to update. So, before I gain fifteen pounds and wipe out my bank account, here is the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything you may recognize in this story!**

I felt as though I were about to pass out. Choosing between my mother and my father was no easy thing. As they were arguing, I had my eyes locked on Uncle Paul while I thought. If I chose my father, I would have to live with Yoko, whoever she was, and would have to deal with my mother who would probably never forgive me. If I chose my mother, I figured that it wouldn't hurt my father so much as he seemed to be perpetually stoned.

"John, you've hurt this family too much already. Give it up, will you?"

"I want my kids with me."

"Yes, well, they're my children, too and..."

I felt my father grab my upper arm, and suddenly we were headed for the door. I tried to pull away, but John was too strong and I ended up being dragged through the hallways of the apartment complex looking like a worn out rag doll. My mother and Uncle Paul were running behind us, trying to grab me, but they couldn't reach my hand in time. Pretty soon, John shoved me in the backseat of his car.

My mother suddenly was at the side of the car, opening the back door. John saw what was going on and quickly peeled out of the parking lot, leaving the door ajar and my mother in hysterics. I looked out the window and watched as Cyn and now Uncle Paul and Julian got smaller and smaller. I felt like I'd done this before; leaving my family behind, my last glimpse of them coming from the back window of a car. I'd left Aunt Maggie like this and now I was leaving the only person who loved me more than the world itself the same way.

"Dad, don't do this!" I cried, trying to shut the flapping door as we sped through the almost deserted streets.

John didn't say anything to me as I pleaded with him to stop the car or at least slow down. I could only see his profile, but the look on his face was one I'd never forgotten. His nostrils were flared and his eyes had this crazy twinkle about them. He looked as though he'd just escaped from a mental institution. I didn't recognize this man.

We swung a sharp right and I went flying toward the other back door, hitting my head against the window in the process. Everything swirled around me as John hastily parked the car and mumbled to himself as he got out. I didn't even have time to pick myself up off of the carpeted floor before John tore the door open and hauled me out onto the pavement. I couldn't even walk in a straight line as he led me through an empty hotel lobby and into an elevator. I slumped against a wall as we ascended ten floors to the very top of the building.

"C'mon, Florence Jane," He said so quietly, I could barely hear him. "Mother wants to see you."

Mother? At this point, I was sure he'd joined some kind of cult without the knowledge of Cyn, Julian, or I. But then again, why would he tell us something like that? He didn't tell us about Yoko either…

I was dreading what I'd find when John dragged me into his hotel room and shut the door. Surprisingly, there was nothing. The room looked as though House Keeping had just made their way through, and the only thing that was out of the ordinary was a woman sitting on the sofa watching television. She turned to us and I can remember feeling as though she'd turn me to stone if I looked at her straight in the eye.

"Hello, Mother." John squealed.

Yoko was surprised to see me.

"John, let's go in the bedroom…" She said quietly, and my father followed her like a lost puppy.

What had she done to him? He looked weak and worn, not how he used to be. My father, it seemed, was tied to a leash. It also may have been the drugs wearing off.

"Stay here." John ordered as he was led to the bedroom.

I followed them with my eyes until the door shut quietly behind them. I had no clue what to do next. Should I run away? Should I call my mother from the kitchen wall-phone? I was so tired I just didn't care anymore. I looked around the room and found a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches on the counter. I took the carton, opened a window and lit up. I sat down on the floor, trying to listen to what they were saying in the next room.

I took a long drag from the cigarette as I heard the words 'back' and 'jail'. I couldn't figure out what correlation those words had together. The tobacco burned my throat as I inhaled and exhaled, but with every puff of smoke that came from my mouth, the weight on my shoulders became lighter. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought my smoking habit would pick up at the age of thirteen, but it did and since then I'd never stopped.

John came into the room and I just about dropped dead then and there. He took one look at me, then the cigarette and then plopped down beside me. I expected him to pluck the cigarette from my fingers, but he didn't. Instead, he shook one out of the carton and began smoking with me.

"You shouldn't smoke, y'know," He said.

The drugs seemed to have left his system as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth.

"What's got you smoking?"

I didn't know what to say. I wondered for a moment if telling John the truth was a good idea. Telling the truth was honestly worse than smoking in front of him. What could I say? That the reason I was killing my lungs was because of him?

"Stuff," Was my articulate response.

John chuckled. I didn't see the humor in this situation, but apparently he did. "You're too young to have 'stuff', my dear."

I looked outside to the adjacent building and puffed again.

"I think I have enough stuff." I said.

"You're pretty deep for a pre-teen."

"I'm just stating facts."

By the time my cigarette was just a tiny stub between my index and middle finger, the sun was coming up. I tossed the butt out the window and turned to face my father, who was already staring at me.

"You look like your mother." He practically whispered.

I couldn't even bother to say anything.

"She's probably missing you. I hurt you guys real bad…"

He sounded like a child and I wondered if he was like this with my mother. I wondered if he was like this with Yoko.

"What have I done?" He asked no one in particular, throwing his cigarette away and rubbing his face with his hands.

"I-I don't know, but I've got to leave." I said.

I didn't even know what I was saying, but pretty soon I was kissing my father on the cheek and heading for the door.

"I love you." He called out to me as I stepped into the hallway.

"You, too," I said back and then shut the door behind me.

As I walked down the green carpeted hallway and then boarded the elevator, I felt as though I were in a fog of some sort. This all felt like a particularly awkward dream that I couldn't wake up from.

**Aaaaaand here comes the new Flo! She's no longer the innocent little girl she once was, lol! So, hopefully you liked this chapter and hopefully I'll be able to update sooner. Please review! P.S.: I WILL ALSO BE POSTING CHAPTER TEN TONIGHT, TOO!**


	10. Chapter 10

**As promised, chapter ten! This is literally the fastest I've updated ever!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you may recognize in this story!**

**June 24, 1975**

"I'm going to call Dad." I called out to Julian who was in the living room.

I picked the phone up off the kitchen wall and dialed my father's 'New York Office' number. Julian and I hadn't talked to him in ages, yet alone seen him. So far, he'd made a few successful solo records, got married, and had yet another child. We on the other hand, went through a handful of step fathers, turned seventeen, and moved from Liverpool to Whales. There was so much to talk about and yet John still didn't have time for us.

"You know he's not going to pick up, right?" Julian asked. "You call every two weeks and it's the same every time."

It was true. After the divorce had been finalized, my father cut off all contact with us for two years. He wouldn't send Christmas cards or call to wish us a happy birthday or anything. I got tired of being treated as though I never existed, so I started calling him instead, hoping he'd get the message. Well, he never did, and I was still trying desperately, to get in touch with him.

Julian stood in front of me as the phone buzzed in my ear. Even though my effort of trying to build a relationship with our father annoyed him, I knew he still wanted to talk to John.

"Hello?" A woman's voice on the other end chirped. "Who's this?"

I recognized this lady on the other end as Carol, my father's secretary.

"Hi, Carol," I said and Julian rolled his eyes and walked away. "It's Flo Lennon. I was wondering if my dad was around?"

It bothered me that I had to talk to a _secretary_ just to talk to my own father. I could hear Carol typing on the other end.

"Let me connect you." She said.

This was it.

"Jules!" I mouthed enthusiastically. "He's going to talk to us!"

He sprinted over, resuming the position of standing in front of me again. I heard a few clicks and soon enough, I heard a second person.

"Hello?"

My heart sunk.

"Hi, Yoko," Julian groaned and turned away yet again. "Is my father there?"

Without skipping a beat she said "No, he's in the shower."

I understood that people took showers, but not every single time I called them.

"Are you sure, because…"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Alright, well, would you please tell him I called? And tell Sean we say 'hello'."

Yoko told me she would and then hung up the phone first. I didn't really think she liked me, or anything else that had to do with my father's past, all that much. I hung the phone up and then went to the living room, stepping over Julian who was tossing a football in the air.

"Where's Mom?" I asked, flipping on the television.

"At the bistro."

I got up off the couch and put on my coat, stuffing my hands in my pockets looking for the cigarettes I hid in there. Sure enough, my Marlboros were there and unopened.

"Where are you going?" Jules asked.

"Nowhere special."

"Going to see David?"

"Maybe," I said, stepping over him again. "Maybe not."

I walked out the front door and then headed downtown to the only good club in town; Fifty-Six. The Fifty-Six club was the only place that had live rock bands play, along with some really good booze. I never had to get my hand stamped there to buy a cup of Coke and Jack Daniels. It was about ten o' clock and I knew David and his band were just finishing up their first set, going on break until ten-thirty. I was allowed to skip the line at the front of the club due to the fact that I knew the bouncer quite well. He didn't even know I was a Lennon.

The club was humid and smelled heavily of cigarette smoke. I loved it there. I suppose you could say that I became sort of the 'bad seed' after the divorce. I tried hard to keep with the angel behavior, but my habits and vices came through and reared their ugly heads after a while. My mom found out that I smoked about three months after I turned fifteen and she wasn't pleased. When I was sixteen, she found out I drank and almost had a cow. There was really nothing she could do to stop me. Of course I respected her, but I wasn't about to walk into an AA meeting or kill myself trying to quit smoking for her.

I walked up to the bar and slapped down two dollars.

"Hey, Flo. The usual?" The bartender, Kenny asked me as I sat on a red, leather stool.

"Yes, please." I answered and began to look around for David as Kenny mixed my drink.

The stage was empty except for equipment and a few instruments and people were already getting drunk. I didn't plan on it, but I knew that I was going to get plastered as the night wore on. I knew I was going to stumble through my backyard, happily drunk, looking for my backdoor. I knew that Julian would eventually find me flat on my back, laughing hysterically at the things swirling around my head that weren't there. He'd drag my practically lifeless body inside before Cyn found me.

"Hey, babe," David said, kissing my cheek before sitting down beside me. "You didn't see the first set."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I had some stuff to do." I lied and then reached over and grabbed my glass of Coke and Jack Daniels.

"You always have stuff to do…" David whined and I rolled my eyes.

I didn't feel like telling him that I was trying to contact the man who hasn't even bothered to talk to me for over four years.

"Yeah, well, what can you do?" I said, taking a long sip.

"Anyway, we're not doing the second set." He said, ordering his own drink.

I was surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Some band called Wings is supposed to be playing tonight and…"

After that, I just tuned him out. Wings was Uncle Paul's band. Uncle Paul never called or came to see us after the Beatles split. I thought it was odd due to the fact that he was so willing to help us out and care for us, and as soon as 1970 rolled around, we were an after -thought. We were tossed aside…yet again.

"I have to go, Florence. I'll see you around." David said and then left the bar.

I barely heard what David said as I watched Uncle Paul ascend the stage with his band. His hair was different, but everything else about him stayed the same. He skipped the introductions and just went into his first song. I left the bar, too, and navigated my way around the many dancing and wasted people. I got so close to the stage that I rested my elbows on it. I looked up at the man who'd been my father when my original one was out of the picture. I couldn't believe it was him. I looked like a complete idiot just staring at him, but it was all I could do.

The song finished and I was still looking at him. I believe some of his band mates pointed out the fact that I was, indeed, mouth agape, completely awestruck. He looked down at me and bent down.

"Hi, I'm Paul McCartney." He stuck his hand out to shake mine.

I took it. "I'm Flo Lennon."

And that did it. Uncle Paul looked at me for a moment in utter disbelief and then jumped down off of the stage. At this point, the people on the dance floor were staring at us.

He held his arms out to me and hugged him so hard I was sure his eyes would pop out.

"I never thought I'd see you again." I said into his shoulder.

"I was only a phone call away, Flo." He replied.

**Okay, so this chapter was more about introducing the new Florence and Paul back into her life. Nothing really special yet. John is definitely coming up soon ;) There you guys have it! I hope you have a great holiday!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys! I've had writer's block for the longest time and couldn't figure out where to start this chapter which honestly sucked. I'm happy to inform you all that my New Year's resolution is to continually update this story (and the stories I write in the future) every Wednesday because I feel so bad about not updating often. I understand that I'm a bit late for Wednesday, but I just wanted to get this chapter out there. Hopefully, I haven't lost too many readers because of my hiatus…and if so, I'm sorry to those who left. On a lighter note, I'm pretty stoked to say that a Ringo fic is underway! I've never written one featuring Ringo primarily, but 'The Girl who Came to Stay' is going to be my first shot. Look out for it as soon as 'Lost Lennon' is finished! Hope you guys had a great holiday season as well as New Year's!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything you may recognize.**

"So, after all this time he still hasn't called?" Uncle Paul asked while biting into his hamburger.

"Nope," I replied, pushing my rice pudding around in its dish. "I'm beginning to give up on him."

Paul and I were sitting in a booth at my favorite twenty-four hour diner. After we had our very public reunion, Uncle Paul finished his set and then decided to take me out for dinner.

"You can't give up on your old man, you guys are blood." He sighed.

"He's given up on Julian and I." I mumbled back, shoving another spoonful of pudding into my mouth.

"No he hasn't. He's just ashamed of himself."

"That doesn't make much sense…"

"It does. I've known John for many years and he's done this with me before. He's so ashamed that he's cutting off contact."

I was skeptical.

"I just feel like he's trying to forget us." I said.

Uncle Paul took a sip of his drink. "He can't forget you…or Julian, or Cyn, or me, or the Beatles! We've all made such an impact on his life."

I really wanted to believe Paul, but after thinking it over for a little bit, I couldn't do it. I didn't believe my father was "ashamed" of himself for leaving; Julian and I saw him on the television with Yoko and Sean all the time, looking happier with them than he'd ever been with us.

"I don't want to call him anymore." I basically whispered.

Uncle Paul reached across the sticky table and grabbed my hand.

"Keep calling him, love. I know that he'll pick up."

In all honesty, I really hoped Uncle Paul was right. Maybe one day John would pick up my calls…or maybe one day call me first. What more could I do than hope?

Soon after that, Uncle Paul let go of my hand and finished off his dinner and the waitress dropped off the check. I reached for it, but Paul practically smacked my hand away from it.

"Ladies aren't supposed to pay the check on dates," He said, smiling.

I felt bad. "If you pay the check, I'll do the tip."

"Deal,"

I put some money on the table and then got up from the booth, dragging my coat along behind me. I shrugged it on and all the while Uncle Paul was watching me.

"You've really grown up… you look more like your father now than you used to."

I smiled. "Thanks…I guess?"

Uncle Paul laughed and then wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Together we walked out of the diner and into the cold night air. He used the payphone to call a car to take him back to his hotel. Once he hung up, I hugged him.

"I've got to go, Uncle Paul. It was great seeing you." I said into his shoulder.

"You're walking home? That's a little too dangerous for you, don't you think?"

"Nah," I said while pulling away from him. "I do it all the time."

"…But at this time of night?"

I looked at my watch and discovered it was midnight. "Technically, it's morning."

"You're definitely John's kid. Are you sure you don't want to be dropped off at your house?"

"I'm positive, but thank you."

No sooner had I said that, Paul's driver parked his red Corvette by the curb. Uncle Paul quickly scribbled something down on the back of the dinner bill and then handed it to me. It was his phone number.

"If you guys ever need me, don't hesitate to call!" He said while getting into the passenger seat.

"I will," I said as the car started to pull away.

"Seriously, call me!" He yelled to me as the car drove down the street and then turned left.

I folded the slip of paper and then stuffed it into my pocket.

I walked down the sidewalk to my next favorite haunt: The Cyrinda. When I made it inside the place, I picked my way through drunk men and equally wasted women to the huge, cherry wood bar.

"Hey, Flo!" Dexter, the bartender called a little too loudly. "Pick your poison!"

I ordered a Long Island iced tea and watched as he made it. When he passed it over to me, I took a long sip of my much needed drink. I people-watched for a while, figuring out which drink each person had and so on. I wondered if I was like my father behaviorally. Was I becoming addicted to unhealthy substances like he used to be? Was I a bar-rat like him? I pushed those thoughts away and downed the rest of my drink. Pretty soon, one Long Island iced tea turned into two and then my vision began to blur.

I remember looking at the clock and discovering that it was close to three in the morning.

"Flo," Dexter said while patting my arm. "The bar's about to close. Do you need a ride home?"

My vision was swimming again and there looked to be about two of him in front of me. "No, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm fine, Dex. I didn't have that much…"

This time Dexter grabbed my arm and began walking me toward the door, all the while trying to persuade me into his car.

"Get off me!" I hissed nastily, and he did.

I stumbled onto the pavement. I didn't even watch as Dexter locked up the bar, I just made my way down the road while trying to light a cigarette. I shuffled through street after street, dropping cigarette after cigarette still trying to light one. I burned my fingers with my lighter a few times, but I was so happily numb that the burning felt good.

I came across my street after a half an hour of wandering. All the streetlights were off and the houses dark. They all looked so empty and dead and I wondered if my house looked that way, too, at night. When I got there, I discovered it didn't. All of the lights were on and I could see my mother pacing the kitchen through one of the windows. I lugged my body up the three concrete steps that led to our front door and then tripped on my own feet into it, face first.

I figured I'd have a lump the size of a golf ball on my forehead when I woke up, hangover, the next morning.

The next thing I knew, Cyn flung open the door and looked around, not seeing me at first. I hoped she wouldn't find me, but she eventually looked down and saw the mess that was her daughter in a drunken heap on the doorstep.

"Where the hell have you been?" She spat at me.

Cyn grabbed both of my arms and hauled me into the house. I was then dragged into the kitchen and pushed into a chair. Cyn started pacing in front of me again, looking absolutely livid.

"I said," she began again. "Where have you been?"

I saw Julian watching me from the living room, a disdainful expression on his face.

"Answer me, Florence Jane!" Cyn bellowed.

I just then realized how Aunt Maggie felt when she got into it with Cyn. It wasn't a pleasant thing. As much as I wanted to say something to her, I just couldn't find the right words. No excuses came to mind, no answers to her questions, nothing.

I decided to wing a response so I opened my mouth, but Cyn slapped my left cheek, hard, causing me to close it. I was positive that she left an angry, red handprint on my face. Didn't she want me to answer her a few seconds ago?

"I've been waiting hours for you to come home! Do you not understand how worried I was? You could have been killed or kidnapped! I was so close to calling the police, Florence, but then you come waltzing in, smelling like a liquor store! I don't even want you in this house anymore!"

That sobered me up quickly.

"Fine, I'll leave." I said and then got up from my chair, fixing to go to my room to pack.

Cyn grabbed a fist full of my jacket and then slammed me back into the sitting position.

"Don't you ever talk back to me again!"

Cyn continued to pace the room. It got awkwardly silent for years it seemed, until Cyn turned to me one more time.

"I honestly don't know what to do with you. Julian told me about his friend who saw you smoking, and just the other day some shelf-stocker at the liquor store asked how you were…we don't even know that kid, Florence! I'm calling your father, go up to your room."

I stood up. "But…"

If she was going to be contacting my father, my room was the once place I really didn't want to be at that moment.

"I said go!" My mother yelled back, now standing by the phone, receiver in hand.

I didn't hesitate. Of course, before I dragged myself upstairs, I glared at Julian and he just looked at me. I couldn't tell if he was with me or against me anymore, and that stung.

Once I was up in my room, I collapsed into my bed and took a few deep breaths before quietly picking up my own telephone. I knew that one day the eavesdropping technique Julian taught me when we were thirteen would come in handy.

I pressed the pale blue receiver to my ear and held by breath as I listened to my mother bargain with Yoko. She really didn't like us at all.

"He's in the shower." She said abruptly as soon as my mother uttered her name.

"It's an emergency." Cyn replied, letting out one long breath, sounding exhausted and flustered at the same time.

"John doesn't have time to talk right now. Can you call back tomorrow?"

"Yoko, we both know that if I call tomorrow, we are going to be having the same conversation we're having now. Just put John on the line, please."

There was silence for a moment and then I heard shuffling and mumbling from Yoko's line.

Finally, I heard him. That nasal voice I missed so much…

"What?" John said, not sounding all that thrilled to be talking to his ex-wife.

"John, it's Florence."

"What about 'er?"

"She's…She's, I don't know how to say this, but she's been smoking and drinking excessively."

John didn't say anything for a bit. "Did something happen to her or…?"

"No, no, not yet, but tonight she came home completely wasted and I-I just don't know what to do anymore."

My mind flashed back to the time John caught me smoking his cigarettes.

"I want her to stay with you, John."

And suddenly, all three of us were dead quiet. You could have heard a pin drop in those few seconds. It almost made me uncomfortable listening in, like they somehow found out I was listening just then.

"I can't send her to a rehab center, John, I just can't."

"I really don't know if I can do…."

"John, I'm so afraid she's going to end up doing drugs. I've seen what they did to you and I can't bear the thought of it happening to her, too."

Again there was silence, and then: "Okay…okay. I'll send for her tomorrow morning. Just have her at the airport by nine." He said softly.

I quietly hung up and stared around my room in disbelief.

I was going to New York to see my father. Uncle Paul had been right.

**So, what did you guys think? Was it okay? I know Cyn was OOC, but it just all played into the grand scheme of things. Hopefully you liked this chapter, and if you did, please review! I'll see you all next Wednesday!**


	12. Chapter 12

**An update as promised! Sorry it's kind of late in the Wednesday, but I had tons of stuff to do. Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognize.**

I sat on a blue plastic chair in the terminal, watching the planes take off and land. Cyn was sitting beside me, going on and on about how disappointed she was in me, breaking every so often to ask if I forgot anything at the house.

"You know I can send whatever it is to you, right? You know our phone number, just give us a ring."

The only thing I'd really forgotten, I guessed, was my brother. He'd wanted to see John just as much as I did, and now I was actually going to New York to see our father…without him. Sure, the reason I was going to New York wasn't all that great, and Julian and I weren't necessarily on speaking terms, but that didn't mean I wanted to leave him behind.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," I mumbled, not really paying attention.

Julian left my thoughts and in came my father. I wondered if John would be happy to see me after all our years apart. Would he be upset with my habits? Would he be the same John I knew? I couldn't quite put my finger on either of those questions. Truth was, it had been so long since I saw my father, I wondered if he knew what I looked like anymore.

I kicked my red suitcase around a bit. "Do you think he's going to be mad at me?"

Cyn looked at me and then out the window. "Maybe. You really can't tell with your father these days, can you?"

"Will Yoko like me?"

"I'm not sure of that at all. She doesn't seem to like any of us…"

I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. If truth be told, I was so nervous in that moment, I thought I was going to vomit.

"Is he going to get me at the airport?"

"I don't know, Flo. He didn't say much on the phone."

"Flight 145 to New York, now boarding!" The stewardess on the intercom called.

Both Cyn and I stood up. I grabbed my suitcase and was prepared to walk to the gate when my mother stopped me.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, almost crying. "Be safe in New York and please call if you need me! I love you!"

"You too, mom. Tell Julian the same for me, will you?"

She nodded and then kissed my forehead. I then made my way to the plane, pulling the ticket John sent for me out of my pocket. I didn't know how it got to me as fast as it did, but I figured it had something to do with my dad's name.

"Call me as soon as you're at John's!" Cyn called one last time as I handed my ticket to some employee to board.

"I will!" I said, and then walked down the bleak hallway to the plane.

Once on, I pushed my way through passengers to get to my seat. I was somewhere in the middle of the plane, right by a window. I shoved my luggage into an overhead compartment and plopped down in my assigned chair while hoping the plane ride would go fast. I hadn't been on a plane since John and Cyn brought me to Liverpool.

I watched business men and middle aged moms with screaming children sat in the seats around me. It seemed like hours waiting for all these people to finally take a seat and buckle up. An elderly man, probably sixty-five years old, sat down next to me and immediately opened a newspaper, ignoring me completely.

Finally, one of the flight attendants started going over the evacuation procedures. I remember not paying much attention to the speech due to the fact I was so nervous, I didn't want to be thinking about the plane crashing.

One at a time it seemed, the flight attendants went back into their sitting area, and all of us passengers waited for take-off. When we started moving, I swore I almost had a heart attack. I saw Cyn watching the plane from the huge windows in the gate waiting area. I remember waving to her even though I knew she probably couldn't see me. As the plane accelerated in speed, I gripped the elbow rests of my seat.

The guy sitting next to me looked over. "First time on a plane?"

I looked back at him. "No. Just haven't been on one in a while…"

He nodded and then went back to his paper, seeming not to care that the plane was about to head thirteen thousand feet in the air. I tried to keep my cool as we rose into the air, but I couldn't. I was squeezing my eyes shut and my nails were digging into the arm rests. I knew I didn't feel this way on my first plane ride. Why was it so different now?

When we reached a comfortable speed and I couldn't feel any movement, I started to relax a bit. I fiddled with the complementary magazines in front of me for a little bit and then, after about twenty minutes, slowly nodded off to sleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Miss? Miss, wake up." I heard as I felt a few sharp pokes in my right side.

I lifted my head and turned to see a flight attendant, holding my red suitcase.

"We're in New York?" I asked sleepily.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Already?"

"Mhm. I suggest getting off the plane with the rest of the passengers."

I ignored her snarky remark and grabbed my luggage, not even bothering to say thank you. This time around, the crowd of passengers was moving at warp speed it seemed, trying to get out of the confined space that was the plane.

Once I got out of the plane and into yet another bland hallway leading to the airport, my nerves suddenly sunk in. Only this time, they were ten times worse. I was actually going to see my father!

I took my first step into Kennedy airport and looked around. For late at night, there were tons of people! Men and women lugging huge briefcases, camps and children's groups, practically everyone you could have imagined was there!

I didn't know what to do next, so I sat in a waiting area, hoping I'd get some inkling as to what my next step would be. Soon enough, like a sign from the Heavens, a man in a tuxedo carrying a name card that said 'Flo Lennon' appeared by the ticket sales desk.

I walked over to him. "I'm Flo Lennon…"

He kind of smiled. "Right this way, ma'am."

He lead me through hoards of people to the main lobby and then outside. I remember it being freezing. Even colder than Whales. The man walked me toward a little, deep green car. He settled into the driver's seat while I hung out in the passenger's.

"So, where exactly are we going?" I asked as we navigated our way through the packed parking lot.

"The Dakota building. It's really close to Central Park…or a part of it, anyway."

As we drove down the clogged streets, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the window. Everything was all lit up, and people were still parading the sidewalks. It seemed like no one slept here.

"Welcome to New York, Ms. Lennon."

I was still in awe of where I was. Never in all of my life would I have thought I'd be in New York! In all honesty, it was quite a culture shock.

We suddenly took a right turn and headed down another street, this one a little less congested. The driver pulled up in front of an eerie looking building and parked. He jumped out and then ran over to my side of the car to open my door and grab my luggage.

"H-how much do I owe you?" I asked, knowing only a little bit about cab fare.

"Nothing. Your dad is a good friend of mine," He said and then handed me my suitcase. "Have a good visit, okay?"

I nodded, said my thanks and then made my way into the building. It was a nice place inside. All nicely decorated and it had a classy, old Hollywood vibe. I walked to the front desk and asked the clerk for my father's apartment number.

"Who are you?" The Dakota employee asked. "I'm not supposed to give that kind of information to fans."

"I'm Florence Lennon...My dad's expecting me, I guess."

"I need to see identification."

I remember feeling a bit awkward, pulling out my driver's license and handing it over to some total stranger.

"Apartment 7W, fifth floor." He said while handing me back my license and then a new key.

"Thanks." I said and headed for the elevator.

Once inside, I pressed the fifth floor button and watched as the door closed, practically sealing my fate.

Would he recognize me? Would he be just as disappointed as Cyn? Those questions swirled around in my head, making me dizzy. The question that seemed to have really gotten under my skin was would he like me?

The elevator stopped at the third floor and let two men in suits on. I kept my distance, sliding both my suitcase and my body toward the right wall. When the elevator reached the fifth floor, I gulped and watched as the door slid open, revealing a hallway with cream papered walls and plush green carpeting. There were two velvet chairs and a huge flower arrangement across from the elevator. I stepped onto the floor and took a deep breath. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience, walking down the hallway looking for apartment 7W.

When I finally found the white door with gold lettering, my heart practically stopped beating. This was it. The moment Julian and I had always dreamed of since the split. The moment Uncle Paul and I had been talking about just a night ago.

I reached out and knocked on the door, holding my breath. After about a minute, no one came to the door, and I wondered if he was home. I knocked again, this time louder.

Suddenly the door swung open, revealing a tall man with long, auburn hair down to his ears. He had on the round glasses I'd always associated with him, as well as jeans and a faded t-shirt.

The same straight nose and brown eyes. What Uncle Paul said was true; I really did look like him.

"Dad?" 

**And there you have it! I hope you liked it and please stay tuned for next Wednesday's update! Have a good rest of the week, guys, and please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm so sorry for not being able to update. I had a giant biology project due that consumed half of my time. I literally had time to eat briefly, sleep, and work on the project. There will be another update this Wednesday, but none the next Wednesday (14****th****) as I will be in Florida. Hopefully, I will not have any more issues in my updating routine. School is over in four months, and if I can make it out of there alive and get through this story in time as planned, the Ringo fic should be out late spring or early summer. You can expect tons of updates and Beatles stories from me come summer time, though! Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognize.**

"Flo, you've really grown." John said while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"You did, too!" I said, feeling rather stupid I hadn't planned on what to say to my father when I saw him.

I stared at him. It was awkward for the both of us, more so for him than me, but the more I looked at him the more I realized I resembled my father.

"Aren't you going to hug me? I haven't seen you since you were little!" He laughed

"…What? Yeah, yeah, sure. A hug!"

John enveloped me in his arms and I suddenly forgot why I was there. John's hugs felt so good and I missed him so much. I forgot that he abandoned his first family for a new one. That he had another kid and didn't pay much attention to his other two.

We pulled away from each other and then my father stepped aside and allowed me in his apartment. The décor was similar to our old house back in Liverpool; very eclectic. There were the huge bookshelves of vintage books, a few random clocks here and there, mismatched furniture. The only thing that was missing, it seemed, was the psychedelic Rolls Royce.

John took my suitcase from me. "Let's go to your room…"

He led me down a short hallway and to a white door. He pushed it open and walked inside, throwing my things on the twin bed that was pushed against the wall by a window that looked over the entrance of the Dakota Building. It was all white and sparsely furnished, very modern. I loved it.

"This is so nice. Thank you." I said.

"No problem. It's nothing much. Yoko and I were going to turn it into a playroom for Sean, but then your mum called and…"

And almost instantly I felt terrible for coming.

"Really, Dad, I can go get a room at a hotel somewhere close. You can keep this room for Sean."

My father was sitting on the bed. "No, no, it's fine."

"Is Yoko okay with me being here?"

"I don't care if she doesn't like you staying here."

I sat down on the bed with him. Even through all of the pleasantries, I could sense John was just as nervous as I was. He was distant again, only being cordial with me.

"Are you okay with me being here?" I asked.

I didn't really want to know his answer because I was almost one-hundred percent sure I knew what it was. I didn't want to hear him say he preferred me back in Whales.

He looked down at his hands. "It was last minute, but I want you here. I missed you and Jules."

At the time, I believed him.

John then got up and stuck his hand out for me. "Yoko's got dinner ready for us. Let's go."

And with that, John brought me into the small kitchen where Yoko was setting a pan of asparagus down. Sean was sitting at his place on a few phonebooks, playing with some Matchbox cars. It was the first time I'd ever seen my step-brother, and he was probably four years old already.

"Daddy, who's she?" He asked with his eyes locked on me.

"This is your big sister, Flo. She's from Whales."

"Flo looks old!" He chirped with a smile on his face.

I remember the hot feeling of embarrassment crawl up my back the moment he said that.

Yoko then walked over to me. "I hope you don't mind a vegetarian dinner."

"No, not at all. Vegetables are great." I said as the embarrassed feeling came rushing back for almost the third time in an hour.

"You can sit there." Yoko said, pointing to the chair across from Sean.

I took my seat and waited to eat while John and Yoko took their places and poured the milk. Yoko served herself and Sean, then passed the dish to John who in turn passed the food to me. I took a few stalks of asparagus and some peas and dug in.

Halfway through dinner, Sean piped up again.

"Hey, Flo! Wanna play cars after dinner?"

"I'm going to help clean up after dinner, but after that, okay? Can I play with the red car?"

"Yeah! I like the yellow car, anyway."

I smiled and went back to eating my supper. The behavior of everyone seemed to be the same here as it was at home. It was like I wasn't here to be in 'rehab' and was just here to visit my dad.

Dinner concluded soon after that. Sean practically flew off of his phonebooks and plopped down on the living room floor to play with his toys. I wiped my mouth with my napkin and stood to collect the empty dishes with Yoko and my father. They were talking to each other while putting the leftovers in the fridge.

When I was washing the dishes, Yoko came up behind me with John in tow.

"I just wanted to let you know that I've locked the liquor cabinet. Don't set a bad example for Sean." She said with a smile on her face.

I knew there wasn't any malicious intent behind her comment, but I took some offence to it. John looked a little shocked as well, but didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say back to my step-mother, so I just let that one go.

"Okay, thanks." I mumbled.

I understood that Yoko was worried about Sean being in the presence of a drinker, being that young and all, but I didn't expect her to be that forward about my habits either. She walked into the living room as if nothing had happened. John stayed, however, and put his hand on my shoulder.

"She'll warm up to you, don't worry about it."

I nodded and continued to wash the dishes as John dried them and put them back in their correct cabinet. Pretty soon, I was sitting on the living room floor watching Sean show me all of his Matchbox cars, Yoko nowhere to be seen. There must have been at least thirty of them in a plastic shoebox sitting beside him, all in an array of colors.

"Do you know what I like most about this one?" He asked, holding up a yellow car.

"What?"

"It's my favorite color. Daddy's too!"

It struck me as odd that my four year old brother knew our father's favorite color and I didn't. Sean knew more about John in four years than I knew in seventeen.

"Really?"

"Yeah! What's your favorite color?"

I thought about it for a little while and then picked up a tangerine colored toy car from the shoebox.

"I like orange the most. My brother...well, our brother likes purple. And my mom likes green."

"I like green, too!" He exclaimed while pushing his long black hair out of his eyes.

He was just too cute. "What kind of games do you play with your cars?"

Sean suddenly flopped on his stomach and pulled out his yellow car. He put the top on the shoebox and put his car on top, making it drive all over the lid. He made it soar into the air, and then smack back down on the carpet floor, all the while making car noises.

"I like to pretend Evel Knievel is driving the cars and make them do flips and stuff."

"Can I try?"

"Sure! Grab the orange car and get on your belly. It only works when you're on your belly."

I slid down on my stomach as told and made my car do tricks on the floor, making car sounds just as Sean had done.

"Am I playing right?" I asked.

"Yeah, but you have to do jumps off the box."

I put my car on the shoebox and made the tiny tangerine car do a flip in the air. I looked up to Sean wasn't playing anymore. He looked perplexed as he set his car down.

"What's the matter? Am I not playing right?"

"No."

"Then what's up?"

He took a little while to respond. "Well, it's just that…Mommy said you're a teenager and teenagers aren't nice."

I was stunned. Did Yoko portray me as some kind of monster to my younger brother? What other things had been said about me?

"Yeah?" I managed to croak.

"Yeah, but I don't get it, 'cause you're pretty cool."

I took a deep breath, trying to collect myself, and then told Sean I had to use the bathroom. He showed me where it was and told me he'd be waiting for me to come back to play. I told him I'd be back soon and then I quickly shut the door and locked it.

I took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and put my head between my knees. I felt sick. This all seemed too much to handle in one sitting, my father and Yoko and Sean. Had I known this was what I'd walk into, I would have never taken a sip of alcohol in the first place. I remember wanting to go home, badly. And the sad part was, I hadn't even been at John's apartment for three hours and I felt that way.

**Again, I'm super sorry for the lack of proper updates. I hope you guys at least enjoyed this chapter and you can certainly expect the next one Wednesday. Have a good week guys!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi, guys. I apologize for being away for so long. The last few months have been rough for me in terms of school and things of that nature. On top of all that, I took a trip, got a killer cold, and lost whatever lick of inspiration I had for this story. I was even considering putting 'Lost Lennon' up for adoption, which is totally out of character for me. It would have been interesting to see how another person would continue this, but I've decided to keep going. Thank you to whoever has stayed with me during this hiatus, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I do suggest you listen to 'Jealous Guy' about halfway through!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Florence.**

Two days after I arrived, John took me to the studio to watch him record. It was around five in the morning when he entered my room and shook me awake.

"Flo, let's go." He stage whispered.

"Where…" I mumbled.

"Recording. Didn't Yoko tell you?"

Yoko told me nothing and I didn't really believe he wanted me to go either. It was nothing he'd said or done, it was just that, back in the Beatle days, no woman was allowed to watch the recording of a new song. It just wasn't done. But then again, that was Beatle John and this John was an entirely different man.

"Why this early? I remember you usually record in the afternoon?"

"I do my best recording early."

And with that, my dad reached under the comforter and pulled me out of bed by my ankles. I sat sprawled out on the floor, dazed and confused. He really did want me to go.

"Meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes and then we'll go." And he left.

I got up and pulled on a pair of jeans and put on a huge navy sweatshirt to cover my nightshirt. I stuck my feet into the only pair of Converse sneakers I owned and stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

"Flo! You're so freakin' slow, hurry it up!" John called from the kitchen.

I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not so I ran my toothbrush over my teeth so fast, my gums started bleeding.

I wandered out and John handed me a cup of coffee. "You'll need it. We're going to be in the studio all day."

He then made for the front door and walked out into the dark and quiet hallway, holding the door for me as I came out behind him. He didn't have any car keys in hand, just coffee, and I was certain he didn't call anyone to pick us up, so where was this place? John pushed the 'up' button on the elevator and waited.

"So, you built a home studio?" I asked.

"We built two actually. We have four apartments altogether. Two studios, one apartment for living, and one to store instruments."

Wow.

The elevator came down and my dad and I boarded. The door closed and an awkward silence fell upon us.

"So…" John said, shifting his weight from heel to toe.

I took that as my cue to keep asking questions. John always had an outgoing personality, so I couldn't understand why it was so difficult for him to talk to me.

"How was school last year? I didn't really have a chance to ask you."

"It was okay. I didn't do as good in math as I'd have liked, but everything else went well."

He finished off his coffee and looked at me. "You need to do better in school. A good education will get you places."

His last statement shocked me. Since when did he get all paternal? Maybe it was after the birth of Sean…

"And Julian? Is he doing well, too?"

"Yeah, I guess he is. He's in the school's band and he seems to enjoy that."

The elevator opened to the seventh floor hallway. It was decorated the same way as the fifth floor, only there weren't as many apartments.

"Good for Jules." John said, leading the way to the last door at the end of the hallway.

He pulled a paper clip out of his pocket and straightened it out. He stuck on end in the key hole of the door and began jimmying the lock.

"Forgot my damn keys…"He mumbled.

Pretty soon, the door swung open and revealed the stark white room known as John's studio. It had a hospital-like quality to it, and I was instantly brought back to our kitchen in our home in Liverpool.

"What are you recoding today?" I asked, looking around while John turned things on and pressed buttons.

"Don't know yet. I was hoping you'd help me out with that."

"Help you out with what?" I asked, certain I hadn't heard him right.

"You're going to write a song with me. I'm due for another album and I have at least the 'A' side tracks finished, but the 'B' side ones still need to be written."

I was shaking my head. "I can't write a song, dad."

"Have you ever tried to?"

"No."

John smiled at me over his glasses. "Then how do you know you can't?"

I smiled back. "How do we start?"

John sat on a white leather couch and smacked the cushion next to him, asking me to sit down, too.

"We don't really start. We need inspiration and I don't have that yet. Too early."

"I thought you said you recorded best before the crack of dawn!"

This earned me a laugh. "I record the songs I've written beforehand the best in the morning. I don't write songs all that well at this ungodly hour…"

I was speechless. Were we just going to sit here until noon rolled around?

"Well, let's write a song so you can record it." I said, grabbing the nearest yellow Legal pad I could find, along with a pencil.

"It's not that easy. We need something to write about."

There were lyrics scribbled down and scratched out on the pad, along with some random notes to call Phil Spector and the like. I flipped the one page over and saw a drawing my father had done. It was a copy of the Christmas card he gave my mother back when they were dating.

"I think I found something…"

John took the pad and looked at the drawing, not sure what to say.

"I miss Cyn sometimes." He said, his eyes never leaving the Legal pad.

"Then that's what we write about."

He looked at me. "Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe you could start with a line and I can come up with the second one."

John took the pencil from me and positioned it over the paper. He stared down at the pad for at least a good fifteen minutes and then scrawled down something.

_I was dreaming of the past/ and my heart was beating fast/_

I looked down at the line. Whatever I put down next was either going to make or break this song.

_I began to lose control/_

John raised his eyebrows at me.

"Well, you did then, didn't you?"

He laughed and then took the pad and began writing something else.

_I began to lose control/ I didn't mean to hurt you/_

"Your turn."

_I'm sorry that I made you cry/_

I slid the paper over to him.

_Oh no/ I didn't want to hurt you/_

The ball was in my court once again.

_I'm just a jealous guy_

"A jealous guy? I like that. Where'd that come from?"

I thought for a bit before responding. "You were always jealous when you were with mom, right? And 'guy' rhymed with 'cry', so I figured I'd put it in."

John took the pad again.

_I was feeling insecure/_

"That was true, too" He said.

I wrote down: _You might not love me anymore/_

"True for me, too." I said, passing the paper over.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't think you loved me anymore after you left. You were a big problem of mine until I was at least fifteen."

John's face turned pale.

I decided to write the next line: _I was shivering inside/_

I wrote it down twice due to the fact repetition seemed to be a big part of the song. I guessed John took my silence as a way to change the subject, so he reached over and wrote down half of the lyrics we'd already composed.

_I didn't mean to hurt you/ I'm sorry that I made you cry/_

_I didn't want to hurt you/ I'm just a jealous guy/_

I took maybe twenty minutes to think of what I was going to put down next. Truth was, after our discussion of sorts, I lost most of the inspiration I'd had. I was too overcome by sadness and anger. I thought back to all of the nights I spent crying as a child, hoping John would call Jules and I, or hoping he'd remember us. I remembered feeling cast aside and neglected by my father and my feeble attempts of acting out in order to earn his attention. I thought he was ashamed of me. John truly was the reason I'd turned to alcohol. After trying and failing at getting his attention, I drank to numb the growing anger I felt.

_I was trying to catch your eyes/ thought that you was trying to hide/_

I supposed I was trying to send John a message through lyrics, but I wasn't sure if he would pick up on it. He took the pad next.

_I was swallowing my pain/ I was swallowing my pain/_

I read that and thought maybe Julian and I had indirectly caused John pain, too. I took the pad again and decided to send John yet another message.

_I didn't mean to hurt you/ I'm sorry that I made you cry/_

_I didn't want to hurt you/ I'm just a jealous guy/_

That was it. The song was done and it was eight in the morning. I didn't know we'd taken that long to write a song.

"I just realized," John said, grabbing my hand. "This song isn't about your mother anymore."

I reread everything we'd written and I knew John was right.

"It's about us." I practically whispered.

John hugged me tightly. I got the familiar feeling I used to receive when John hugged me. I felt safe and loved. It was the first time in years I'd felt that with him. A tear or two rolled down my cheek and I quickly wiped them away before John saw.

"I'm so sorry, Florence. Really, I am." He said.

"I know."

**So, that is it. I don't know how good it is or if you'll all like it, but hopefully you do. I'm not positive as to when the next chapter will be out. I think I made it clear I couldn't handle that, but hopefully I'll be able to update soon. Please tell me what you think!**


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm glad you all liked the chapter and thank you so much for the reviews! They made my day and inspired me to write even more. Hope you like this chapter as well.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles.**

**November 30, 1980**

"It doesn't sound right." I said.

Phil Spector and my father turned to me from the control panel. We were all in the studio recording the backing track for another song John and I had written together, 'I'm Losing You.' I wasn't really asked to join in the remixing and recording fun, Phil Spector didn't even want me there, but my father insisted I come due to the fact I wrote the sheet music for the studio musicians and co-wrote the song.

"What do you mean, it doesn't sound right?" Spector asked.

"It's too…I don't know, done up."

Even though I knew Phil Spector was one of the most famous lyricists and producers, and that I shouldn't mess with his authority when it came to music, I couldn't help but to notice he was rewriting my piece without my consent.

"Done up? Do you even know what you're doing here….what you're listening to? It's the Wall of Sound. Every song you've ever heard growing up had the Wall of Sound!"

"Yes, I know. But the song was written to sound like…"

"John, why is she here? She's only, what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Why is she trying to tell me how to do my job?"

Actually, I was twenty, but I decided to let Phil Spector believe whatever he wanted to believe.

My dad turned to me. He had been fed up with Spector the entire session, and he knew this wasn't how I'd written the song.

"Let her fix it, Phil."

"What?!"

"Let her fix her song."

Phil swiveled around in his chair to look at me. "Fine, fix the track."

I walked over to the huge panel of controls. Phil Spector was right; I had no idea what I was doing. It couldn't be that hard, could it? I pressed the button that was labeled 'repeat' and listened to, what Spector thought, was 'I'm Losing You'. I stopped the recording and looked at the session musicians who, at this point, were all watching me. It was clear they had no idea what was going on, as they couldn't hear a sound from the control booth unless the intercom was on, which it wasn't.

I looked at all the people sitting in front of me with their instruments, waiting for my next move. I pressed the button for the intercom and inched a step closer to the microphone.

"Okay, guys," I said nervously. "We're going to try something different."

With that, I took my finger off the button and made my way to the door leading to the session musicians. As I made my way down the few stairs there were, I could feel John's and Phil's eyes on me, burning into the back of my head.

I took a seat on the floor in front of the group. "If it's okay with you, I want you guys to play exactly what's on your sheet music, no embellishing. Forget everything Mr. Spector ever told you about this song, and just play it."

I turned to the plate glass window and motioned for Phil to flip a switch so he could hear me. He did, but didn't look all that pleased.

"I just want you to listen to this. Don't record it, just listen."

I turned back to the studio musicians. "Can someone count off for me?"

A bass player I had never seen before until today counted to four and then suddenly the room was filled with the funky sound I helped to create. It sounded just as I thought it would, no repeats or extra measures like Phil added, just music.

Eventually, the song came to a close and it was just the session musicians and I in silence.

"That was perfect, guys." I said and then rushed over to the stairs again.

I burst into the studio and pressed the button for the intercom.

"Let's do that again. Take twenty-five…"

I pressed the button labeled 'record' and watched the musicians do their thing. I felt John walk behind me and then stop to the left of me, by a section of switches and buttons I had no idea how to work. He flipped a few things and pushed some things forward and then the three of us were listening to 'I'm Losing You'.

The only person I was concerned about liking the track was my father. I didn't even look at Spector until the music stopped and I stopped recording.

Phil still looked angry. "That was how it was supposed to sound?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I replied.

"Then, that's how it'll stay," John cut in. He pressed the intercom button again. "Good job today, guys, see you next Thursday."

I watched the session musicians pack up their things and then Phil popped out of his chair.

"What do you mean, John? That's it? We're done here?"

John picked up his note pad and his keys to the studio. "Yeah, Phil, that's it. See you next Thursday."

And then John and I both left, leaving Spector to fume on his own.

"The track was good, Flo, I liked it. Just one thing, though,"

"What?"

"Don't interrupt Phil Spector. He's an interesting guy, but he shouldn't be messed with."

I made a mental note of that as we stepped into New York's freezing fall air. I pulled my gloves on and hugged my black coat to my body as I thought about home back with Mom. Fall in Whales paled in comparison to fall in New York. The foliage was equally as beautiful, but the weather was ten times as horrid in New York. I had lived in both places long enough to know the differences. John and I walked across the street to the particular part of Central Park where we always hung out after sessions in the studio.

We sat on the bench we usually occupied and relaxed.

"Are you spending Christmas with us this year?" John asked.

"Yes, I am, but only for a few days. I have to see Mom and Jules for New Year's and then come back to the city for the third semester."

Since I came to New York, I worked with my father long enough in the studio to learn I had a natural knack for songwriting. I'd penned dozens of songs to be recorded by my father along with other artists and many of them had been used as I'd hoped. By the spring of 1978, I was finishing my freshman year of college at NYU and got picked up by a music publisher to pen hits for other musicians. My relationship with John, Yoko, Sean, and my mother was perfect. I kicked my alcohol addiction and was just weaning off of cigarettes. It was my dream come true…almost.

"How are things between you and Julian? Still tough?"

There was one thing that wasn't so perfect, however. My relationship with my brother hadn't improved at all since my leaving Whales to live with our dad. The only person I knew who could hold a grudge longer than my father was Jules. We hadn't made up and that seriously stung. I didn't feel that connection with Julian liked I used to; I didn't feel as though I was half of him anymore as he was half of me.

"Definitely tough. I don't want to spend the New Year with them…it's just too awkward."

"It'll kill your mother if you don't go, y'know, and regardless of the situation between Jules and you, he still loves you. Hell, he has to."

I was beginning to feel the twinge of sadness I was starting to associate with Julian instead of John, so I decided to change the subject. "This part of Central Park reminds me of the video you guys did for 'Strawberry Fields'."

John looked around. Central Park was a blanket of darkness in front of us, but the lighting coming from the glow of the cars, Dakota building, and the streetlights wrapped in twinkle lights for the Christmas season allowed John to see our surroundings as though it were daylight.

"You know, it sort of does."

I suddenly felt my chest tighten as I remembered the old Beatle days. I missed my uncles, my old family, the rapport I had with Julian. Even though things were great now, I still yearned for the past some days.

"I miss the sixties." I said, smiling a bit too sadly for my liking.

"The sixties were okay, I guess."

I put my head on my dad's shoulder. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, anything."

"This is totally off topic, but do you think you and mom could have stayed married? I mean, not that I don't think Yoko is great, I like her a lot, I just…do you think there was a chance?"

John stayed silent for a bit, and in that time I feared I'd said too much. Did I anger John? Was I in too melancholy of a mood?

"Oh, geez, Dad, I'm sorry. You don't have to…."

"I think if we were a bit older, we would have stayed together. You have to understand, Flo, your mum and I were your age when she had twins. Twenty years old is way too early to have babies, especially when you're starting out with a band…which, in the beginning, paid next to nothing. At twenty, you're just starting out in life, never mind with a group of musicians."

"If you had the chance, would you have done things differently?"

"Yeah, I would have. I would have waited to have kids, so that we weren't in the midst of Beatlemania like we were with Jules and you. I would have spent more time with you guys instead of with the group and I wouldn't have hurt your mum as much as I did. I wish I hadn't left you lot like I had."

The conversation was one of the most intimate I'd ever had with my dad. I'd expected more dialogs like this to follow, but I didn't realize then what limited time I had with him. In hindsight, I wished we'd talked like this more often.

Yes, my father was a character…sarcastic and witty, and I'd witnessed that side of him more so than what I was experiencing now, but really getting into my father's feelings without the aid of music was a complete rarity. The softer aspect of my father's personality was something I hoped to see more of as it was the side of him I connected with the most.

John looked down at his watch and then kissed the top of my head. "It's getting late, Flo. You better get back to school."

We both got up and walked to the curb where John helped me hail a cab. We were quiet the entire time it took to get me a cab back to NYU. We weren't having much luck, so we waited for a bit longer.

"So, I'll tell Yoko we'll see you for Christmas?"

"Yes, you will. Ask Sean what he wants for Christmas from me, will you? I won't see you guys until next week at the earliest, and I haven't had the chance to ask him myself."

"I'll do that. Will you be at the session next Thursday? It's at a new studio down in Soho. Would you like me to pick you up?"

"No, no. You don't have to do that, I'll get a cab. We're only tweaking things, right? It shouldn't be too long of a session."

"Right."

Finally, my father flagged a cab down for me and stuck a twenty dollar bill in my coat pocket for cab fare.

"Love you, Flo. Take care." My dad said as I got in the cab.

I told the driver where I was headed and hung my head out the window as we were pulling away from the sidewalk.

"Love you, too, Dad!" I called after him.

**Chapter fifteen! I can't believe this story is almost over, and it makes me sad that I'll have to write about John's death soon. Hopefully this chapter was okay and you liked. I wasn't really smitten with this one like I usually am with the chapters I put out. Anyway, please review and have a great summer!**


	16. Chapter 16

**December, 8 1980**

It was noon when I stepped into my apartment. My roommate, Stacy, was at the small kitchen table, painting her nails.

"You dad called a few minutes ago. He wants you to call him back."

I set my bag down in the small entryway, headed for the wall phone and dialed my dad's number. He picked up after the third ring.

"Hey, dad, what's going on?"

"I just wanted to let you know that there was a change in plans. Instead of going straight to the studio, come to the apartment. I want to make sure we have all the tapes for today's session."

"Okay," I said. "I'm leaving right now."

I collected my things and told Stacy not to wait up for me. I quickly walked onto the sidewalk and stuffed myself into a cab. We pulled up to the Dakota building about twenty minutes later due to the ever present New York traffic.

I paid my cab fare and walked to the front entrance of the building. My father was always surrounded by fans for as long as I could remember, and today was no different. Since it was midday during the week there were only a few waiting outside the Dakota…a few being anywhere from fifteen to twenty people. I pushed my way through the crowed and was let in by Stanley, my favorite doorman.

I pressed the button for one of the two elevators in the building and waited. I was so excited to finish this album and put it out to the public, I couldn't stand still for more than a minute. I felt like I was six again. After what felt like forever, the elevator doors swished open and I quickly stepped inside and pressed the button for my father's floor.

When I stepped into the hallway, I saw my father and Yoko locking up the apartment, John with a box of something tucked under his right arm. I met them at the door and took the box from John, suddenly knowing from the weight of the container that every session tape we'd ever cut for the album was in my hands.

"Are you ready?" John asked me.

"Yes, are you?"

John smiled and then threw his arms around my and Yoko's shoulders, walking us to the elevator. We all got in and pressed the button for the lobby, stopping every once in a while to let a passenger on or off to transfer floors.

"We're not going to be home until eleven o'clock tonight," Yoko said to me. "Are you sure it's okay for you to stay out this late? It is a school night…"

"I'm fine, don't worry about me."

Once we were out of the elevator and were having the door opened for us by Stanley, a fan I hadn't recognized as one of this afternoon's door dwellers ran up to my father, holding a record out for him to sign. He was pudgy, with large glasses and brown hair…just an average looking guy.

My father signed the album and quickly thanked him for listening to the music while Yoko and I waited. Something about the man made my insides twist and my skin feel slimy, but I couldn't put my finger on what exactly made me feel uncomfortable. I shrugged off the feeling and turned to my father, who had just finished signing and thanking his fans.

"Ready?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Yoko nodded and we made our way to a waiting car.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"Okay, let's get started." My dad said to me.

John clamped the huge headphones over my ears and flipped a switch on the soundboard. I was hearing the first track of the album, making notes on the yellow pad next to me on what needed to be fixed. Nothing really jumped out at me, just small mistakes like tiny bits of session musician conversation before the tape fully cut off. I was the first person to comb through the tracks before anyone else. I did this at least seven times to each of the twelve tracks on the album, making sure I weeded out every mistake. John was next in line to do this, and then Yoko and then Phil Spector.

After about five hours of that, we all settled down with the session musicians to re-record some tracks and correct whatever mistakes we'd found during the first step in our tweaking process. When I looked at the clock after the remixing, it was eight o'clock.

"Let's get Chinese food." John said, picking up a take-out menu and the phone.

I was exhausted from the session and we still had another three hours to go. I loved recording and being at sessions, but the fixing of tracks was the most tiring and tedious thing one had to endure.

The food was delivered thirty minutes after John called the order in. John dumped the box of food unceremoniously onto the coffee table placed by the couch and each person in the room got a to-go carton of whatever was ordered and we all dug in. Dinner ended at ten, and then we all buckled down for the last hour of correcting. It was the home-stretch, and I couldn't wait to crawl into bed.

"Are you tired yet?" John asked me.

I was half asleep in my chair, listening to the corrected tapes, making sure everything was perfect.

"Not very…" I said even though I was about to keel over from exhaustion.

Phil Spector was the first to break at ten-fifty. John, Yoko, and I were next. We packed up our tapes and wished everyone a goodnight before heading out to the car we came in. John loaded the tapes in and then the rest of us followed.

As we drove home, I had my head on my father's shoulder, breathing in whatever cologne he used. It was the same one he had used when I was a child and I was instantly taken back to the time when John carried me off the airplane back when I first arrived in Liverpool. It was the memory I'd always associate with my father. Not the recording sessions, although those were fun, but the first time I'd met him when he walked me down the tarmac and to the car with all the people I'd later call my family surrounding us. It was the first time I'd ever met my parents, and I couldn't have loved John or Cyn more in that moment.

I wondered how differently things would have been for me had John and Cyn not come for me when they did. I wondered where I would be if I hadn't come to John's apartment to sober up. I wondered how different my family would have been had John never left. Those thoughts were pushed aside when I felt John's right hand reach up and stroke my hair.

I had to stop thinking about the past and how he left us and had to focus on what I had now. John was in my life and that was more than I could have asked for. I had to be grateful for the second chance I was lucky enough to receive with my father.

A few minutes after that, our car pulled up to the building. I got out, then John, then Yoko holding the box of tapes. There were fifteen people waiting for my father's autograph when we were all outside. One or two policemen were standing, watching the small crowd in front of us.

The three of us were just nearing the door, Yoko in front of us and John and I bringing up the rear, when I heard the voice that would haunt my dreams forever. The two worded phrase that would stick with me for the rest of my life.

"Mr. Lennon!"

We all heard gunshots and I saw my father take four bullets in the back and go face first onto the sidewalk. I took two in my right leg, felt my bones shatter, and went toppling over against a mailbox.

"Somebody help him!" I screamed, watching John struggle on the pavement. "Please, someone do something!"

I heard a police officer call for back- up and watched as he and another man scooped up my dad and shoved him into the back of a police car. Blood was everywhere, people were running away, and I could hear sirens in the distance already approaching the Dakota building. It was complete pandemonium down on the sidewalk, and I only hoped Sean was in bed, not watching this scene unfold from his bedroom window. I had blood seeping through my jeans and pooling around my leg, my hands slicked entirely red from grasping my lower leg.

I felt someone lift me under my arms and haul me over their shoulder as if I were a ragdoll. I was thrown into the back of an ambulance, where a team of three people strapped me down to a gurney and stuck my arm with an IV.

It was loud in the ambulance, too, what with all the screaming and crying going on. It took me at least a minute to realize the screaming and crying was being done by me. I couldn't get a grip. I just watched my father get shot and I had no idea where he was, I had no idea where Yoko was, and I had no idea where I was going. My brain was scrambled, all logical thoughts thrown away completely.

I was in so much pain. I'd never experienced pain to the degree I was feeling then. It felt like my leg was being shredded, white hot pain throbbing relentlessly, making the rest of my body go numb.

"Where's my dad?" I sobbed, hiccupping and coughing as I went.

An EMT stopped fiddling with my IV and was now pulling out an oxygen mask from God knows where. He was trying to place the mask over my face, but I wouldn't stop moving.

"Ms. Lennon, we need you to take a breath. We need you to stop talking."

"Where's my dad?" I asked again, the mask fully over my nose and mouth, muffing my words.

I wasn't sure if they had slipped me something or if the pain was too great, but I passed out almost immediately after the mask slid over my face. The last thing I remembered was seeing the sign for Roosevelt Hospital come into view and then everything went black.

**That was the worst thing I think I've ever had to write in my life! Stay tuned for chapter 17.**


	17. Chapter 17

I woke up to the sound of machines. I wasn't sure where I was or if I was dreaming, but the beeping and clicking sounds I was hearing were driving me crazy. I opened my eyes and stared up at a white ceiling. The room smelled horribly sterile and the bed I was laying on didn't feel as though it were mine. I looked down at my arms and saw needles sticking in them, bruising my skin around the point of injection.

I was in a teal hospital gown and everything from my waist down was covered in scratchy sheets and blankets. I sat up, felt a bit dizzy but pushed through the drug-induced haze, and looked out of the window that was directly in front of me. Four nurses were at a desk, hurriedly grabbing charts for patients and heading off to another part of the hospital.

I looked around my room next and noticed I was alone, my only other company being the heart monitor and other assorted devices. I couldn't remember why I was in the hospital. Maybe the years spent with John were a dream and I was back in Whales, in the hospital after almost dying of alcohol poisoning? I tried to scoot off the bed but felt a shocking jolt of pain coming from my right leg. Under the layers blankets, it looked chunkier than my left one and that surprised me.

I looked out the window to the left of me at the sun that was struggling to rise. I saw the sign for the hospital and was suddenly aware of where I was. I was staying at Roosevelt Hospital in New York, not Whales. I wasn't lying in a bed because I drank too much, I was here because my father and I got shot.

I needed to know where my dad was, where his room was located. I truly believed he'd survived. I was just about to try and get up again when Uncle Paul came into my room. I hadn't seen him in years and I was happy that he was here. He looked almost exactly the same as when I saw him in Whales when I was sixteen, but he looked tired and his eyes were rimmed in red.

"Hey, Uncle Paul." I said.

"Hey, Flo. Long time, no see, eh?" He said, trying to smile but failing miserably.

I didn't know what to say after that. In all the time I'd known Uncle Paul I don't think I ever saw him that upset. He walked around my bed and sat by my feet. He had his hands clasped together and was looking down at his shoes. He was chewing on his lower lip and was sniffling a bit.

"I need to tell you something very serious," He said, eyes to the floor.

There was a brief moment of silence and then he said: "Florence, John is dead."

"What?" I asked. I was positively sure I hadn't heard him correctly.

"Your father passed away, Flo, I'm so, so sorry."

I sucked in a deep breath, and in that moment, Uncle Paul wrapped me in a hug. My body convulsed as I cried so hard into Paul's shoulder, I thought I might pass out for a second time. My insides twisted and my heart leapt to my throat as both Uncle Paul and I cried the hardest we'd ever cried before. The fact my father was gone was just unreal to me.

Uncle Paul pulled away and wiped the tears from my face although they were still coming.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Flo, I don't know what else to say…" He sighed, exasperated.

I didn't know what else to say, either. I was still crying and was in no condition to carry out a conversation like a normal human being, but I managed.

"Does Julian know?" I asked between sobs.

Uncle Paul wiped my cheek again. "Yes, both Cyn and Julian took the earliest flight they could."

"And Yoko? How is she? Please tell me Sean doesn't know…"

"Yoko is absolutely distraught. She was sent home and I was called to watch you. Sean doesn't know about John, and I'm not sure if Yoko is ready to say anything to him yet."

I had more questions I wanted answers to, but I was completely drained of energy at that point. This all felt like a living nightmare I couldn't escape from. When I stopped crying and slumped back in bed, Uncle Paul grabbed my hand.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I was so scared he killed you both."

I squeezed his hand and, even though I loved Uncle Paul, I wished his hand was John's. I wanted to get up out of bed and find my dad lying in a hospital bed, still dazed from the drugs he was given before surgery. I wanted him to say something sarcastic about the shooting and tell me he was alright, that we'd go home in a few days. I want this whole mess to be a joke…but it wasn't, and there was no hospital room for my father or a witty remark to be made by him, because he was gone.

"Get some rest, Florence. When you wake up, your mum will be here. I love you, okay?"

"Love you, too." I murmured quietly.

Uncle Paul kissed my cheek, squeezed my hand one last time, and left me alone once again with my thoughts for company this time.

What was I going to do back at the Dakota? Was I going to be there when Sean found out? Should I try not to cry in front of him? Did they wash John's blood from the pavement outside? Where was John's spirit now? What was he thinking?

The pain in my leg was starting to become unbearable, and I had a feeling it would continue to ache like that for at least another week. I pressed the call button for the nurse and watched as one walked the hallway and came into my room with a needle.

"Pain killers, dear?" She asked.

"Yes, please." Was all I could manage to say.

The nurse slipped the needle into a tube that was connected to my IV. In a few seconds, the ceiling lights above me began swirling, the pain gradually stopped, and my eyes shut before the nurse even left the room.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Sit up, love, we need to get you in the wheelchair." My mother said.

Julian and my mother had arrived in New York around noon, just as I was waking up. I didn't know what plane they took or when they caught it, but it was a fast one and I was glad they were there. Well, Cyn was there, not Julian.

"Where's Jules?" I asked, still feeling a bit sleepy.

"He's at the Dakota building with Yoko and Sean, and Sean was so excited to see him. He was talking a mile a minute about playing the Atari and about cars and things…I imagine the two of them are about it break his little heart." Cyn said, wiping a few tears away.

I sat up in bed and my mother sat next to me, smoothing the hair from my face and kissing cheeks.

"Thank God you're alright." Was all she continued to say to me.

"When am I getting out of the hospital?" I asked.

"Now, actually. The doctors weren't going to release you until tomorrow, what with all the pins in your leg and everything, but…"

"Pins?"

"Yes, dear, they had to put a few things in your leg because the bullets crushed your bones."

"Oh…" I was beginning to feel sick again.

"Anyway, I had you released today. Okay, now let's tackle this wheelchair."

Cyn pulled the blankets away and I saw my leg for the first time. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but my right leg was strapped and taped. I couldn't see where they opened me up, but then again, I didn't really want to. Cyn helped me out of the hospital gown and into my own clothes. The right leg of my jeans was cut just above my knee so that my leg could fit.

I was half dragged into the wheelchair, bad leg propped up. Cyn wheeled me out of my room and down to the lobby of the hospital, where I could see dozens of news trucks parked outside. I had no idea news on my father's death had been leaked already.

"They know?" I asked.

Cyn nodded grimly and began wheeling me out of the hospital.

Reporters were waving microphones in my face while asking me questions, and thankfully, Cyn marched right past them. She somehow loaded me into the car and took off, heading in the direction of the Dakota building.

**We're in for the home-stretch now. Hold on with me for just a bit longer!**


	18. Chapter 18

When Cyn and I arrived at the apartment building, there was a mass of people crowding the sidewalk, looking up at John's apartment. There were many policemen this time, watching everyone carefully.

Cyn parked the car on the street a little ways away from the front door. She helped me out of the car and wheeled me toward the entrance. I could hear the crowd singing "Imagine" and a few other songs my father wrote. As we got closer, it was obvious they were mourning as all of them were crying hysterically and some were praying. We passed the spot where John collapsed hours before. His blood was still on the pavement, and it was a sight I would never be able to shake from my system.

Once inside and in an elevator, I finally felt comfortable enough to talk to my mother again. "Are you staying with us?"

"No, love. I have a hotel room. Julian is staying, though."

We stopped on John's floor and were immediately let in by Yoko. Sean was sitting on the couch, head in his hands, sobbing. Julian was next to him rubbing his back.

"We just told him." Yoko said quietly, wiping away a few tears of her own.

I was mere seconds away from crying when Sean ran up and hugged me.

"He's gone, Flo! He's gone, he's gone!" He shrieked.

I held him for hours it felt like, but it must have only been a few minutes. I knew then that I couldn't break down; I had to stay as strong as possible for Sean and Yoko, no matter how hurt and scared I was inside.

Yoko grabbed Sean's hand and took him to his bedroom, telling him to go take a nap because that would make him feel...she couldn't say better. Nothing could make any one of us feel better. The three of us lost our father and nothing could ever fill the hole in our hearts where John was. After Yoko had Sean down for a nap and my mother left us, I wheeled myself out of the apartment and to the studio.

I turned the light on and closed the door behind me. The room looked exactly as we'd left it. Notes were scribbled on pads and coffee cups were still on the end tables. The room looked lived in but very empty at the same time. I realized then that the studio would never be the same without John. This was John's studio and without him, it just felt wrong. There was so much John left in the place that I almost couldn't stand to be there, knowing he'd never walk through the door and record in here with me anymore. I felt tears sting my eyes and my throat contract.

"Hey," I heard behind me.

I turned around and there was Julian. I quickly composed myself and wheeled around to face him totally.

"Hey." I said back.

He really did look like John, more so than I did. His hair was long, he had wire-rimmed glasses, the same face shape. Everything about him screamed John. Before either one of us could say anything, Julian dropped to his knees and gave me a killer hug. We both fell about crying uncontrollably together. Everything we needed to say to each other, the apologies and I love yous, was said in those moments together, grieving over our father.

"I'm not sure where to go from here." I said to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't stay at the Dakota...I don't think I'll ever be able to stay here again. There are too many memories in Liverpool and Whales. I need to get out of here."

Julian grabbed my hands. "Where do you need to go? I'll take you."

I sniffled and thought about what he'd said. I knew where I had to go, but how was I supposed to say it?

"I need to go to Aunt Maggie's." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I had a chance to realize what I said.

"When do you need to go?"

As soon as possible, I thought, but I needed to stay in New York for Yoko and Sean. I'd never forgive myself if I left at the drop of a hat.

"After the funeral. Sean needs us."

Julian nodded and then asked what this room was. I told him all about the multiple studios in the Dakota and how John and I had been recording together. Julian looked through a notepad John had written in.

"I really miss him. I lost him twice." Jules said and I took note of his statement.

It was true. I lost John once as a child and had a chance to rekindle our relationship. Sean had John as a full-time father for the beginnings of his childhood. Julian lost John as a child and then now. It truly was unfair.

Julian walked over to the box of tapes Yoko had been carrying last night. He picked up the tape labeled 'Watching the Wheels' and put it in the stereo system to be played. I gripped Julian's hand as John's voice blared over the speakers. I couldn't handle another crying spell, so I squeezed harder and Julian stopped the tape.

"Sorry." He said, still staring the stereo system.

"So am I." I replied.

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! The Ringo fanfic is on its way to being uploaded!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello, everyone! Sorry for being away. I was on vacation and then school started, so I've been pretty busy as of late. I know that I was supposed to be releasing a Ringo fic, but I'm not going to just yet. First, I want to finish this story and then I want to release a Paul fic. You will not be disappointed, trust me! The Ringo story will be released (as will a George fic later on) but not yet, as it needs a bit more tweaking.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Florence.**

We had a private cremation service for Dad a few days later. I'd never been to anything like it before, and I was numb the entire time thanks to some cooking sherry I found in the pantry. I knew I shouldn't have been drinking again, but I couldn't help myself.

When we got back to the apartment, Sean went straight to bed and Julian and I hung around in the living room. The place seemed so dark and dreary, unlike it used to be. John brought life to the apartment and now there was nothing.

Yoko put the urn on the mantel. I couldn't look at it. In the days after my father's death, I tried to console myself by pretending John was back living in our old Liverpool house. It was childish and completely inaccurate, but it helped me cope. Looking at the urn made things a reality and reality was something I couldn't stomach at the moment. I needed to leave.

"Yoko, I need to go." I said, almost whispering.

She turned to me. "Why?"

I clasped my hands together and twisted them in my lap. "I can't be here anymore. It's too much for me. It's like Dad's here but not and I can't…deal with that."

"Where do you want to go? Who's going to go with you? You can't go alone."

I hadn't thought about that. Julian had offered to take me to Aunt Maggie's, but he didn't have an American driver's license. If we got pulled over, we'd be hauled off to jail.

"I'm going back to Aunt Maggie's." I said.

"Who is Maggie?"

So John hadn't told Yoko about Maggie and her signing me over to him. I had always assumed she knew.

"Maggie was my original caretaker. I didn't know Dad, Mom, or Julian until I was ten. I lived in the states then moved to Liverpool to be with them."

Yoko looked surprised. "I-I guess you can go. If it's going to help you cope, then sure. Is Julian going with you?"

I looked over at Julian. He said he'd go, but I wasn't sure if he changed his mind.

"I'm going." He said.

Yoko moved from the mantel and walked toward the kitchen.

"I'll arrange a driver for you. Go pack your things." She said, and then left.

Julian wheeled me into my old room and got my red suitcase from the top of my empty closet. I'd moved back into the apartment after I got family emergency release from school. Most of my clothes were still in my suitcase, so packing was pretty much done. Julian took his suitcase from under the guest bed and then took both cases to the front door. As we stuffed ourselves into our jackets, Yoko appeared.

"Anthony is waiting for you out front. Be safe, okay?"

"We will." Julian replied.

Julian took both suitcases and we were out of the apartment in seconds. Even being in the hallway was painful. This was where I first saw my father in years back when I was seventeen. The Dakota building just screamed John and everywhere I turned I couldn't get away from the memories we'd made there. Once Julian and I were in the elevator, he turned to me.

"What's Aunt Maggie like?" He asked.

I thought about that for a bit. What was she like? I hadn't seen her in years, so how was I supposed to know?

"She was sweet and funny. She was also diagnosed with depression and stayed in bed for a bit sometimes, but she was nice."

"And who is she married to?"

"Uncle Jim. I'm not sure if they're still together, though. He couldn't really handle her and was out of the house a lot. It really was just Maggie and I living on the farm."

Once we got off the elevator and made our way outside, we saw a man standing next to a Lincoln Town Car. He was big and burly and instantly reminded me of Mal Evans.

"Mr and Ms. Lennon," He said as a greeting. "I'm Anthony. Where are we going today?"

"Ohio."

Anthony took our suitcases and put them on the front seat of the car, which was something I never saw done before. He and Julian then hoisted me up from under my arms and placed me in the car, my leg propped up on the console between the driver and passenger seats. Anthony folded my wheelchair and put it in the trunk of the car.

Julian got in next to me and buckled up.

"Where in Ohio?" Anthony asked.

"Abraham, Ohio. It should be the first town we'll drive into."

Anthony put the car in drive and took off, conquering the late afternoon traffic. I knew it would take hours to get to Abraham, so I fell asleep as soon as I could to kill time.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"Flo, what was your old address?" Julian asked.

"2414 Simmons Street, Liverpool, England." I replied, my brain still fuzzy from sleep.

"No, no, your Ohio address."

I sat up a bit more and looked around. We were still driving in the car, but it was pitch black outside.

"13 Cardimom Avenue."

After a few moments, I felt Anthony turn left on the extremely familiar bumpy road. I knew every twist and turn of this street, every fork and hill. Anthony turned the headlights on high and their light shone on the very few mailboxes there were. We passed farm after farm until we came to mine.

The house looked exactly as I left it. The porch swing was still yellow and the apple tree was still in the backyard next to the pigpen. Anthony swung onto the gravel driveway and stopped. He unloaded the suitcase and unfolded my wheelchair, putting it right on the porch in front of the door.

Julian and Anthony carried me onto the front porch and parked me in my chair. Anthony left after that without a goodbye.

Jules rang the doorbell and we sat listening to the crickets. Not a sound came from the house and I was sure we were going to sit outside until morning.

Julian rang again and we waited. The light went on in the bedroom I knew to be Aunt Maggie's and soon we were hearing footsteps on the stairs.

The door swung open and revealed Aunt Maggie. She was a bit pudgier around the middle and her eyes had a few more wrinkles, but other than that she looked the same.

"Florence? Holy shit, you're here! Jim, Florence is alive!"

**That was chapter nineteen! I hope you enjoyed it and please review!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello everyone! It's been a while but I'm back. You can expect some more updates within the next few days, as I've just gotten my wisdom teeth out and I have so much wonderful time on my hands! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I only own Florence.**

Julian and Aunt Maggie helped me over the threshold, and suddenly I was back in my childhood home. Just like the outside, the inside withstood the test of time and remained the same as I'd remembered it. The green ottoman was still shoved under the front window in the living room, and Aunt Maggie's photographs were still lining the staircase. It felt nice to be home again.

Aunt Maggie wrapped me in a huge hug and just held me for a while. In that moment, I felt as though I were ten years old again; protected, safe, and normal. I hadn't felt that way in such a long time and I was instantly brought to tears.

"I'm so glad you're alive." Maggie whispered.

"Me too," I replied.

Aunt Maggie pulled back and wiped away a few tears just as Uncle Jim came down the stairs. He patted my back and smiled at me.

"It's really good to see you again, Flo."

"It's nice to see you." I said back.

"And this must be Julian!" Aunt Maggie exclaimed and then hugged Julian the same way she'd hugged me.

Julian's face took on a calm I hadn't seen in a while. It seemed as though all of his pain was just stripped away instantly.

"I'm happy to have you home too, love." She said to him.

He smiled and then broke away.

"Let's all have some tea. Jim, will you take the suitcases upstairs? I need to help Florence into the kitchen."

Uncle Jim nodded and grabbed our suitcases. Aunt Maggie began pushing me into the old kitchen with Julian following in tow. Maggie made space for my wheelchair at the kitchen table and pulled a chair out for Jules. We all talked a bit about how that farm was doing and how the new animals got along with the old ones, just brainless conversation. Julian and I watched our aunt as she bustled around the kitchen, gathering the tea pot and other ingredients. Aunt Maggie flipped the radio on.

"_Imagine all the people/living life in peace…."_

John's voice drifted over us like his ghost. Julian's face became ashen, and I grabbed his hand.

Aunt Maggie instantly turned the radio off and came over to us. She sat down and put her hand on our clasped ones.

"I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know that song would be on…"

"It's not your fault." Julian said.

Aunt Maggie looked unsure of what to say next. She fidgeted in her chair for a bit before finally saying: "Look, things are never going to be the same for you two. You'll never be able to get over John's…passing, but please know that you have a huge network of family that is more than willing to help you get past the tough times and help you heal. Never be afraid to reach out if you need something, okay?"

"Thank you." I said, and I truly meant it.

She patted our hands. "Maybe tea isn't what we need right now. How about I get the guest rooms settled for you?" And then she got up and went upstairs.

"Are we going to be alright, Flo?" Julian asked me. "Are we ever going to get through this?"

I was taken aback by his question. Normally, that was something I'd ask him. "I think after a while we'll be functioning. We'll never be the same way we were, I don't think."

"I really miss him." He said.

"I do, too."

Aunt Maggie came back and took ahold of my wheelchair. She and Julian helped to haul me up the stairs and into my old bedroom. Aunt Maggie put me into bed and Julian sat on the edge of it.

"Your room is down the hall, love." Maggie said to him.

"Would it be alright if I slept on the floor?" He asked.

Aunt Maggie looked from me to my brother and then finally agreed. Julian grabbed the comforter and pillows from the guest bed and set up camp next to my bed. Aunt Maggie shut the lights off and told us to get to sleep like we were young and rowdy kids.

A few minutes later, I stared up at the ceiling and thought about my life and all the milestones in it. I lost one family and then gained another. I spent a significant amount of time in four homes. I'd gotten into trouble, but found myself, and just when I thought I had a good and stable life, major tragedy struck and all forms of the stability I'd finally gotten a taste of slipped through my fingers like sand. I was confused about what to do now. I didn't think I could get through this chapter of my existence. I didn't how I was going to get from point A to point B anymore. Hell, I didn't even know where points A and B were now.

"Hey, Flo…" Julian whispered up to me.

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you know that right?"

"I love you, too, Jules."

He reached up and squeezed my hand, and suddenly I knew that regardless of which direction my life was going to take me, I was going to be okay.

**Short and sweet! I hope you liked it. More chapters are on the way and soon I'll be able to wrap this up for you. Have a great day!**


	21. Chapter 21

"So, what have you been doing since?"

I looked down at my feet. What had I been doing since John passed? I moved back to New York, went back to school, and got a part-time job as a session musician. I went through tons of rehabilitation for my leg, getting me out of the wheelchair. I visit Aunt Maggie with Julian and Sean on the weekends. I hung out with Uncle Paul a few times, going over Dad's old session tapes. Life was slowly, and I mean _slowly_, returning to normal. Well, as normal as it was going to be what with Dad absent.

"I've been doing things, I suppose." I said.

Everyone laughed at that and I smiled.

"Well, there you have it. The Lennon twins post tragedy. I'm Cora Corman, signing off. Good night!"

The cameras shut off and Cora shook our hands. Julian and I had a flight to catch back to Wales to see Mom. Since December, family had become ten times more important, and we were going to spend a week there with her. We were loaded into the back of a waiting car, our luggage in the trunk.

We drove off through the dark and clogged streets of New York to JFK Airport. The driver creeped along toward Central Park West.

"I miss him." Julian sighed, looking out the window.

"We always will." I said back.

Traffic was intense as always. We were stalled directly in front of the Dakota Building now. It still pained me to look out at the sidewalk, to see the place where John had been, face down and bleeding terribly. That vision of him haunted me, and I assumed it always would. I tried not to look at the tunnel where they found the murderer, sitting there calmly. The Dakota Building was forever ruined for me.

I looked up at the window of Yoko and Sean's apartment. A single white candle was burning in the window for Dad.

As the car began to slowly inch forward, I swore I saw him. He wasn't New York John, but Beatle John…the way I preferred to remember him. He smiled at me, and I instantly felt as though I were found by him again.

"Julian, look!" I exclaimed, pointing to the apartment. "Do you see him?"

Julian looked over. "See who? Sean?"

"No, no, I mean…" and when I looked back, Beatle John was gone.

"Are you feeling okay?"

The traffic began to move and us with it. Soon, the Dakota was behind us.

"Yeah," I said and then smiled. "I'll be okay."

And for once in my life, I knew that to be true.

**And that was the last chapter. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. This story meant so much to me, and I hope that it meant as much to you all as well. This was truly one of my favorite stories to work on and I'm happy it was enjoyed. Have a great day and thank you again for staying tuned.**


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